


without you (i'd be losing)

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birdwatching dates, Domesticity, Fluff, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mike is the best bro, Miscommunication, Misunderstanding, Patty is also a great bro, Pining, Sexual Harrasment, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates, Stanley Uris Has OCD, bill is in a frat, brief mention of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 09:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21473650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Stan knows it’s a pessimistic thought, but the concept of soulmates never appealed him. Being in love with a person appealed to him. Being with someone who cared about him, and who he cared about in return, appealed to him. However, he knew that having a soulmate didn’t always promise such things.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough & Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 22
Kudos: 236





	without you (i'd be losing)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [without you (i'd be losing)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932979) by [lianyunzhiyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lianyunzhiyu/pseuds/lianyunzhiyu)

> Warning!!!  
There is a scene in this fic where one of the characters is talked about in a derogatory/sexual harrassing way. I tried to keep it vague so as not to be too triggering, but if this is something that may trigger you please avoid the second party scene.
> 
> Title from P!nk. Used to be: god it hurts (to be human)

Stan knows it’s a pessimistic thought, but the concept of soulmates never appealed him. Being in love with a person appealed to him. Being with someone who cared about him, and who he cared about in return, appealed to him. However, he knew that having a soulmate didn’t always promise such things.

It doesn’t take much research to discover that there has been many instances of soulmate pairings not working out like they are intended to. Because the truth of the matter is, that pairs are comprised of two (or sometimes more) humans. There’s wisdom in the age-old adage that people are only _human_. Stan’s taken a psychology class. He knows that being human means being prone to such weaknesses, such as excessive pride, expectations for things out of a person’s control, and close-mindedness. He also knows that such weaknesses, if are acted on, can damage any relationship, especially the relationship between soulmates.

Some people believe that having a soulmate means that there will be a person who loves, admires, or is faithful to them no matter what they do. Stan disagrees. It’s unfair for a person to expect their soulmate to put up with anything they do. Being with someone should be about working together and compromise. Not “you have to love me no matter what because you’re my soulmate. You don’t get a choice.”

But it does happen. Especially with society’s expectations for soulmate pairs. Government issued PSA’s on T.V., as posters, online reminding any newly matched pairs to register their pairing at the Agency for Soulmate Pairs (ASP). Remember, it is a federal crime to not register a pairing within twenty-four hours of meeting, all the announcements include, either in a little asterisk at the bottom or spoken very quickly at the end, if the PSA was on the radio or T.V. Two red hearts intertwined together, the logo for the ASP, were on all the PSAs, advertisements in stadiums, and on posters all over college campuses, high schools, and on public transportation.

Any relationship seen in the movies or in shows are always between soulmates. Advertisements for products, if relevant, include some line about “making your soulmate happy” or “you don’t want your soulmate to be disappointed in you for not using this brand of shampoo.”

A romantic relationship between a non-soulmate pairs is often spoken about in a hushed way, with furtive glances and furrowed brows usually present. They were illegal until not too long ago, when it was declared unconstitutional for the government to prohibit such a law against relationships. Many other countries allowed non-soulmate pairs to be recognized by the government. It was time for all relationships to be seen for what they are: a union of two people who love each other.

To force someone to be with a person they don’t want to be with is inhumane.

That’s partly why, in recent years there has been a push for acknowledging that not all soulmate pairs work out. People change. While not everyone is born a bad person, some people do bad things and can become bad people.

Soulmate abuse is seldom spoken about but does happen. Stan’s seen it. It is unfair to assume that a person should stay with someone who hurts them because they are “meant to be.” This is something that he and many others agree on. Luckily more and more non-profits and organizations have pushed for more resources and aid from the government in order to protect victims of abuse. Stan’s family used to volunteer there when he was younger. It was his first experience with the reality of some soulmate pairs. They weren’t always like his parent’s pairing. They weren’t always like the pairings he saw on T.V. or heard about in books. They could downright _toxic._

Some people have an excess amount of pride or are closeminded, which can mean they do not always like to compromise, forcing their soulmate to always compromise. Some people have expectations about who their soulmate is or should be, and if those expectations are not met, the blame is placed on the soulmate. Pressure is put on a soulmate pair to work it out, but that can’t always happen.

This isn’t to say that Stan doesn’t mean soulmate pairs who love each other and are good for each other can’t exist. Don’t be preposterous. Of course, they can. His parents are an example. Richie and Eddie are another. When he imagines a having a soulmate, he tries to be positive and think of having such a relationship as the two couples mentioned do. A relationship where he enjoys spending time with his soulmate, works through problems with them, can practically read each-other’s mind, is always thinking of the other person, and can have fun while doing nothing the most boring thing. When Stan was younger, and he used to think about his soulmate, he remembers thinking that he wanted to be with someone who would make even doing Ms. Kaminsky’s fraction homework bearable just because he was doing it with his soulmate. He hopes to be with someone who he loves and who loves him in return.

At times, he find himself thinking about his soulmate, and a dark part of him is always nervous that his soulmate won’t actually ever accept him. They might pretend to. They might pretend as if they care about him, maybe trying to convince themselves as well. However, inside, they may only ever be doing be they are soulmates. Not because they love or care about Stan.

The loving him in return is something that makes him nervous the most. He’s been bullied most of his life for his looks, his friends, his religion and ethnicity—but mostly for his OCD. People would mess up his things, hoping to see him begin to panic and try to put them back in order. People would complain about him washing his hands too much even though he knew—_he knew_—the only way for his hands to be clean was to wash them four times. He spent longer than anyone he knew on his personal hygiene and grooming. Does that mean that taking care of himself is wrong? No, of course not. But he did realize that washing his hands until they were cracked and bleeding was not only not good, but dangerous. He also knew that the panic he felt when things just _weren’t right_ was not good. However, it was only when he began going to therapy in high school that he was diagnosed with OCD. After that, he began behavior therapy and medication that helped him to manage it, so he no longer had the impulses he once had. He learned how to let intrusive thoughts appear, manage them, and then move on. 

Through his therapy and research, he learned that OCD is not something that can be cured. It’s like Richie’s ADHD and Eddie’s Anxiety. It will always be a part of him. Just like he’s sure there are things about his soulmate that are a part of them, and he would have to accept if they would want their pairing to work out.

Stan does know that he will not try to hide or feel bad about the things that are a part of him. They help to make up who he is. He refuses to feel ashamed like he was so often made to when he was younger. Therefore, if his soulmate does not accept him, and that means _all of him_—his OCD, Jewish ancestry, friends, etc.—then he does not accept his soulmate.

* * *

“I already liked the picture, Richard.”

“Yes, but you didn’t comment, Stanley. You need to comment, too.”

“Rich, leave it alone.”

Richie turned to Eddie, hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. “I am trying to provide for our _baby_, Eds. Daddy’s got to make a living.”

Eddie rolled his eyes before taking Richie’s phone with his free hand, the other holding the leash for his and Richie’s dog, Harry. “For the last time, asshole, quit calling yourself ‘Daddy’—it’s fucking creepy.”

The dog was a tiny, fluffy, Pomeranian named Harry. Richie ‘stumbled,’ or so he claims, upon Harry on his way home alone from class one day during their sophomore year. A local shelter brought some of their animals to campus for an Animal Therapy Day on the last day of midterms of the semester, as a way to help students de-stress after the hard week of exams and projects, as well as to allow the animals to have some well-needed TLC. Richie stopped by (“Just to pet some and then leave, Eds, I swear!”) and immediately felt a ‘connection’ with the little blonde ball of fluff being pretending to be a dog. According to the sign attached to the little puppy pen the dog was in, ‘Harriet,’ had been at the shelter for a little over two years. Her owner had been an older man who had passed away and none of his family could take the little dog. It also listed her age as ten years old, which Richie knew to be old for a dog. The Director of Adoption, who noticed Richie’s attention on the little dog, began talking about Harry’s history, how older dogs are less likely to be adopted because of their age, etc. This somehow led to Richie filling out adoption papers and walking home, no longer alone, but with Harry on a bright purple leash.

From what Stan had been told, Eddie walked in later that afternoon after his shift at the hospital to find Richie, lying on their sofa, sporting a nervous and hopeful look on his face, with a little bundle of fluff (that Eddie had first believed to be a fur hat until the hat had let out a little snore) lying on his chest. He only then noticed all the dog toys spread around the floor and a little pillow in the corner which he realized was a dog bed. Eddie was shocked and he started to object. After a long discussion, in which Richie agreed to take care of most of Harry’s needs, Eddie relented. However, it wasn’t long before the little dog became their baby girl. Currently, Eddie and Harry seemed to be together more often than Richie and Harry, much to Richie’s chagrin.

Stopping to let Harry sniff around a little, Eddie shoved Richie’s phone into his pocket.

“Yeah? And how is harassing your best friend about a stupid comment on a picture of Harry running through a pile of leaves going to fucking provide for him, huh?” Eddie asked, hands on his hips and eyebrows pushed up his forehead, staring Richie down.

Richie sighed, as if he couldn’t believe he even had to explain this. “Because, my love, comments get added with likes, which is then divided by your follower count and then that percentage is used by the almighty Instagram Algorithm, which then recommends the post to potentially new followers… puts it higher up on explore page…do I even need to go on?”

“Please don’t,” Stan interjected, bored, looking around at the people walking by.

Harry seemed just as bored with the conversation. “Aww, that’s daddy’s good girl! Yeah, you mark your territory, baby!” Richie cooed as Harry finished doing her business on the grass. They began walking again. “Stan, don’t act like you don’t know. Haven’t you had to take, like, a fucking marketing 101 class or some shit?” Richie asked flippantly. 

“Yes, but strangely we didn’t learn about the business of idiots with dogs trying to be Instagram influencers.”

“Well, technically, _Harry_ would be the influencer, not me. Or, wait, _would_ _I_ be the influencer?” Richie’s scrunched face turned to Eddie, looking for an answer.

“Does it matt—”

“HEADS UP!”

A soccer ball flew in between Richie and Stan’s heads, grazing Stan’s curly hair. Eddie let out a yelp as he tugged Richie down and away from the ball, while, at the same time, Richie tried to cover Eddie’s head. Harry began barking at the figure jogging up to them.

“Woah, hey, sorry about that! My friend was trying to do a trick and—oh hey, Rich! Eddie! Been a while!”

“Bev! I can’t believe you! Trying to kill us just because your jealous of these good looks? Shame on you!” He turned to look at down at Harry, “Can you believe her?”

‘Bev’ shook her head at him, faking exasperation. She had bright red hair pulled into a high pony tail and was very pretty, Stan noted. “Please, Tozier, spare me the dramatics.” Bending down to give Harry, who was standing on her hind legs and wagging her tail furiously, a scratch behind her ears. It was a good thing, too. It looked like Harry was about to break her tail from the force of her wagging. As she stood up, Bev picked up her soccer ball, holding it under her arm. To Eddie and Stan she turned, sounding apologetic. “Sorry about the ball. My friend, Kay, was trying to do this trick thing, and she punted it a little too hard.” Her sweet face was a twisted in remorse.

“It’s fine, no one got hurt,” Stan said, placatingly.

“Except for my feelings.”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Bev shot an amused look at Richie and Eddie. “Anyway, so are you coming tonight? To the Alpha Tau Omega party?” she asked.

“I can’t, Bev, I’ve got work tomorrow morning,” Eddie said, not looking sorry in the slightest.

“I’ll be there! And Stan the man will come too, right Stanny?” Richie said, pulling Stan into a headlock with no actual force behind it. Stan tried to interject, but before he could, Bev started again.

“Great!” Someone shouted Bev’s name, and she called a quick “One second!” to them before turning back to the them. “See you later then, and Stan, it was nice meeting you!”

Stan pulled away from Richie before gave her a slight uncomfortable smile and a small wave. Then she was running back to her friend.

“I’m not going to another frat party Richard,” Stan said flatly, as if it was obvious.

“Come on, Staniel, it’ll be fun! You haven’t been to one since freshman year!” Richie pleaded. “Plus you barely drink at parties, and it would be smart to have a sober person there especially since Eddie’s not going, right, babe?” Richie gently slapped the back of Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie glared at him before turning to Stan, looking a thoughtful. “He does have a point. He might end up in the bushes outside the minimart again if he’s left to his own devices for too long,” Eddie, the double-crosser, joked, and Stan didn’t even try to hide his laugh at Richie’s affronted expression.

“Eds! We agreed you could only bring that up once a month and you already told the neighbors about it last week! Not fair!” Richie complained.

“And, you know, Stan, it actually might be good to get out a little. Change of pace, and all that,” Eddie said. “And if you really don’t like it, you can always just leave. I’ll come and walk you back if you want me to.”

“Or just let me know and we can do something else, like go to a bar or movie or something.” Richie offered.

Stan found himself in a corner. While he wanted nothing more than to just stay in tonight, he also recognized that he had been staying in a lot lately. Eddie did have a point. It might be nice to get out a little, and if he decides he doesn’t like it, then he’ll just leave. No problem. Stan’s therapist told him that it’s always beneficial to alter his routine every once in a while. And, unfortunately, this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“That is a good point…” He said, begrudgingly, because it really was a good point.

Richie threw his arm around Stan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Stan, it’s just a little party, you’ll have a great time, promise.”

* * *

Stan would not say that he was having great time.

Walking into the large house with strobe lights flashing behind the windows that night, Stan felt himself beginning to regret his decision.

Seeing the look on his face, Richie pulled him aside before they fully made it in the house. “Hey, Stan the man, seriously if you want to leave just let me know and we can go, no questions asked, promise.” Richie said seriously. He even held up his pinky for a pinky promise, which Stan completed with a reluctant on his face, anxiety easing a little at the innocence of it.

_There’s a surprisingly large amount of people here for a Thursday night. _The house was crawling with people, some beginning to show the effects of drinking too much. Stan had never been to a party during the week before, but he had expected it to be smaller than weekend parties. He was quite wrong. 

He stayed with Richie for a while as they made their way around the party.

Eventually, Stan made his way to the kitchen for water. The kitchen was just as crowded with people standing around and talking. His senses were feeling a little overloaded. After finding a cup in the cupboard and filling it almost to the brim with water, he made his way into the backyard for air that didn’t smell like stale beer and sweat.

He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live in a frat house. He had never been to one outside of a there being a party held there, but it just seemed like it would be a hectic place to live. With so many people under one roof, it must be noisy all the time and moments of peace were probably a rarity.

Walking outside, Stan realized he was wrong about the backyard being a place to take a break from the party. There were a few people lingering around, smoking, but a small group seemed to be at the center of attention. Standing around in a faint circle around the keg, a few people were holding up someone turned upside down, doing a keg stand. The person was wearing a (Stan mentally shuddered) bright blue snapback, red flannel shirt, and jeans. Reddish-brown hair peeked out from under the hat, and their face was starting to look red in a not very healthy-looking way. The people around the keg-stander were cheering them on, shouting ‘Big Bill’ over and over. 

When the figure opened their eyes, they were smiling widely while coughing a bit. The cheers and chanting grew louder. The figure turned to look at everyone, stopping when their eyes met Stan.

Looking into the figure’s eyes, a sudden, bright warmth flowed through Stan. He could feel it. Originating in his chest and flowing both up to the top of his head and down to the tips of his toes. Burning. Tingling. Glowing. Stan was sure that there were waves of heat coming off his body. Looking at the figure, Stan could see that they seemed to be reacting similarly to what he must look like. Wide eyes. Flushed, glistening face. Standing completely still, as if in a trance.

The cheering around them suddenly began to slow down in confusion, as Stan and ‘Big Bill’ stared at each other, unblinking. ‘Big Bill’s’ face was in awe, but Stan felt his eyebrows scrunch and mouth twist, not able to hide his discomfort even through the haze.

_Fuck. _

* * *

The walk to the local ASP had Stan silent. Meeting his soulmate still had him in a slight haze of their first connection. He could vaguely understand, in a far part of his mind, that Richie and Eddie and a few of his soulmate’s friends, including Bev, were speaking as they walked. He could barely hear them though. 

It felt like they were all on one side of a baseball diamond, yelling, and he and his soulmate were on the other side, caught in their haze.

It was not nearly as intense as it was at first, but they both were still silent and had a bit of a far off look in their eyes. He remembered hearing about it from Richie and Eddie, who had trouble describing it but talked about how it took time to wear off, but he still didn’t realize how _intense _it would be. He felt a deep sense of peace and comfort. 

It felt as if in one second, he and his soulmate were still standing in the backyard in their trance, staring at each-other, not moving, and in the next second, they were being shuffled by their friends down Main Street.

The ASP building was in the center of town, right next to city hall, a few major banks, and the nicer restaurants. Everything else around it was closed, due to it being the middle of the night. This only made the already bright lights of the ASP building glow even brighter in the night. It looked updated and modern, and when they walked in, the fluorescent lights caused Stan to blink a few times and for some of the haze to dissipate a little more, leaving him more aware than he was a few moments before. The awareness brought the reality of the situation pressing down on him a little more. He met his soulmate. He met his soulmate, and now they were in the ASP to declare themselves as a pair.

A part of him began to panic—that same part that urged him to organize the receptionist’s desk, which was in a sorry state of disarray, until it was _just right_.

However, his body wasn’t reacting. He tried to clench his fists but could only manage a slight twitch of his fingers.

Physically, he felt invincible. It was as if nothing could touch him. Honestly, he believed that all the serotonin in his brain had been released at once, it seemed to be the only way for him to feel just as _good_ as he did right now. Mentally, he couldn’t really say what he felt. It was difficult to separate his emotions from the emotions the haze was making him feel.

Someone—Richie, probably—began ringing the bell non-stop for the absent receptionist before someone else—Eddie, probably—stopped him.

Stan stared at the poster on the wall behind the desk. There was that logo. The two hearts together.

They didn’t have to wait long for a Pairing Administrator to come and lead them to the back. The nametag read ‘Heidi’ with her pronouns underneath. However, it felt too personal to call her Heidi, as if she was friend. She most certainly was not. She was the person who would be filling out their Pairing Form, thus ending Stan’s life as an independent person and beginning his life as a coupled person with someone who he doesn’t know.

He and his soulmate were shuffled back and sat onto a firm couch in a bare room with only PSAs on the walls. The administrator gave them both bottles of water, a banana, and a little green pill that could almost be mistaken for a pea. He learned about the green pill in health class in high school. The pill was meant to lessen the effects of the haze. In the event that both parties were still too mentally caught in the haze to the point where they were still unable to talk or really understand what was being said to them while reporting their pairing, then the green pill would ease it so they would not be a danger to themselves or others. After making sure they both took it, the administrator left, saying she would be back soon with the paperwork.

Stan felt his head begin to clear and his surroundings slowly creep back into focus.

Sitting on the couch in the white walled room, covered in the PSA posters, Stan felt the panic set in. He was sitting next to his soulmate. His _soulmate_. The person he was supposed to share a life with.

Stan felt his heart race. His palms began to sweat. The urge to clean the receptionist’s messy desk became so prominent. He balled his fists by his side and held them rigidly next to his body, fighting the urge.

The quiet in the room felt suffocating.

Stan looked out the side of his eye at his soulmate. Sitting beside him, his soulmate seemed to be just as tense as Stan. Staring straight forward. Hands balled into fists, as well. Mouth closed in a tight line.

After a few seconds, that mouth began to tentatively open. Then close. Then open once more.

“W-W-“

Barely the first sound came out before the door was being opened again. The administrator stood in the door way, holding a stack of Pairing Forms and informational documents.

“Alright, are we ready to get this show on the road so you two can get on with your new lives together?” The administrator asked in a cavalier tone with a smile spread wide across her face. _It’s like she thinks all we want to do right now is leave to make googly eyes at each other, _Stan mentally sighed.

Both he and his soulmate nodded, hesitantly.

“First, you’ll both need to state your names.”

There was a beat before Stan opened his mouth.

“Stanley Uris,” came out, in a voice that sounded blank even to his own ears.

He heard the intake of his soulmate’s breath. The administrator asked him to spell it then scribbled his name down. The sound of the pencil against paper was the only sound in the room he could hear, besides his new life partner’s breathing.

“And yours?” asked the administrator, facing his soulmate.

“W-W-William D-Denbrough,” replied _William_, voice shaking but soft and husky. Hearing it sent a new warmth through Stan’s chest. _Doesn’t really look like a William, though,_ Stan mused to himself. In the back of his mind, a voice was telling him that he knew his soulmate’s name was not, in fact, William. He had heard him be called something else, but he couldn’t remember through the haziness that was still present in his mind.

After she wrote his soul-_William’s_ name down, she had them fill in their social security numbers in the boxes below their names. Then she asked for all the standards: pronouns, date of birth, contact information, parent’s names, etc. Everything was running smoothly, almost mechanically, until she asked for an address. One address. Where they both would be living. Together.

Stan was at a loss of words. Peeking at William, who looked just as unsure and lost as Stan felt, Stan trained his eyes back on the administrator.

“We haven’t discussed it yet. We only just met tonight,” he informed her in a tight voice, hands clenching tighter.

“Well, it’s needed for the form so let’s figure it out now then, shall we?” She offered in a voice that made it clear it was not an actual offer but a decision. _What’s another decision made about my life without my consent?_ Stan internally rolled his eyes, as he externally huffed a breath. Stan saw William hesitantly peek at him with an apprehensive look on his face.

Thus began the discussion of the living situation. However, it wasn’t much of a discussion to be frank. Stan lived in a dorm that was included with his scholarship. Soulmate pairings were not permitted to live in the dorms together. Meaning they would either have to pay for an off-campus apartment, which would be fairly expensive, or live at William’s fraternity house. William is in a fraternity, and, therefore, lives in a frat house. The one he was just in. The one with the stale beer smell and sticky floor and stained walls. Stan felt a headache come on.

* * *

After signing their names at the bottom of the Pairing Form at the ASP, he and Bill walked out to an empty waiting room. Their friends had left. Stan couldn’t blame them; they were in there for hours filling out paperwork and getting the legal rundown of everything. It was also still very late at night. Abruptly, William turned to Stan. His posture appeared to be trying to feign calm and ease, but his face was scrunched in a way that gave away his uncomfortableness. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant and unsure.

“W-w-would y-you w-want to get c-c-coffee or-“he stuttered out, seeming frustrated with his words.

Stan hesitated. It would be rude to refuse, but at the same time, it had been a _long_ day. He was tired and a little numb.

“Thank you for the offer, William-”

“Uh, it’s B-b-bill, actually, B-bill D-denbrough,” _Bill _interrupted, with a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Stan sent Bill a small, tight smile. “Bill, then, it’s just that I’m, uh, pretty tired right now. Maybe another time? I would just like to go home, right now,” Stan replied, trying hard to not sound as uncomfortable and on edge as he felt. It wasn’t Bill’s fault Stan didn’t exactly want a soulmate. Maybe another time, Stan and Bill could talk and get to know each other and maybe Stan would come to like Bill. However, right now, Bill was a stranger. A stranger who he was meant to love and be with forever. How could he even begin to picture that though, when he knows nothing about Bill. Stan’s headache throbbed. 

Bill’s face shifted from nervously hopeful, to nervously embarrassed, and a smidge disappointed? Stan couldn’t really tell. It was quickly replaced with a face of ease and comfort. Bill seemed to hide his true feelings well.

“O-oh…y-yeah, yeah, of c-course, I’m pretty t-tired, too,” Bill tried to brush it off but failed at looking unbothered. “Another time would be better, yeah. Maybe I can help you p-pack and, you know, e-everything,” Bill replied. He readjusted his snapback. His face read nonchalance, but Stan thought he saw that same nervous hopefulness he saw before.

“Thank you for the offer. If I need help, I will be sure to let you know.” Stan couldn’t help his voice from sounding crisp.

As Stan turned to leave, he felt a warm, firm weight move against him and two arms wrap around him. Stan took a deep breath in surprise, at the same time breathing in Bill’s scent: warm, musky, evergreen trees, and, to be honest, a little sweaty. Stan didn’t mind the scent. He didn’t mind it so much, he found himself breathing in again. And again, one more time, before Bill broke away.

“S-sorry…I just…uh…” as Bill seemed to search for the words to say and the musky scent of Bill left his nostrils, reality hit Stan full force once more. He wanted to leave the situation. As soon as physically possible. 

“I need to go.” Stan said shortly, before quickly walking through the double glass doors.

Turning down the street in the opposite direction of campus, Stan broke out in a speed walk. Not a run, mind you, but a fast-paced walk. He was not _running _from his soulmate, okay? He just…needed space. Yes. Stan had all the contact information on Bill in the folder given to him by the administrator, which had copies of the paperwork they filled out at the ASP, so he would talk to Bill later. They would figure out when he would be moving in and all those fun details at another time. Just not now. Right now, Stan needed to be alone and to think.

Despite how tired he was and the late hour, Stan couldn’t imagine going back to his dorm right now. He had so much nervous energy. He decided to take the long way home to give himself some time to think and walk off the extra energy caused by the day. By the time he arrived back at his dorm, he was exhausted. He passed out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

* * *

The next morning, Stan awoke to an email from the Resident Director of his dorm informing him (a) they had been notified of his change in relationship status and wanted to congratulate him and wish him a happy life with his soulmate (Stan wanted to scoff), and (b) to please have his things moved out by noon on Saturday (as in, _tomorrow_) and to return his key to his RA before leaving.

Almost immediately, Stan replied with a quick, matter of fact email reading that if he was to be moved out by Saturday, it would force him to break Shabbat, which, thanks to the Religious Freedom clause in the Soulmate Pairing Law, would, in fact, be illegal of them to ask him to do. Soon after Stan hit send, he received a reply that his move out day would be pushed to Monday at noon, giving him Sunday to pack, so as to not interfere with Shabbat.

He then sent a text to his therapist, letting her know of the situation that had arisen and requesting an appointment at her earliest convenience. Stan knew the warning signs of a rise in his anxiety, and he wanted to be sure that he was on top of it before it became too much to handle. 

He also sent an email to his professor for his one class on Mondays, informing him of the situation, as well. He let her know that he would not be in class because of having to move last minute.

He would tell his boss at his internship in person this afternoon that he would not be able to make it into work on Monday, either, given the circumstances.

_Less than 24 hours of having a soulmate, and I’m already being forced to move around my life._ Stan huffed, irritated. But even he knew he couldn’t blame his soulmate for this, it wasn’t his fault either. It was just an unfortunate situation all around.

After then sending a quick text to the groupchat he had with Richie and Eddie, asking for help on Sunday, Stan got ready for the day and headed to his one class of the day and then his internship. He knew that if he asked, they would have given the day off due to the events of last night and the fact that he only got a few hours of sleep. But Stan needed a little stability right now. Plus, he enjoyed his job.

He did decide to skip the weekly shabbat dinner later that evening, however. He just didn’t want to deal with all the questions and prying from people. It seemed word spread fast when it came to soulmate pairs, and Stan was very aware that many people would already be in the know about his new soulmate pairing. Instead, he decided to catch up on some much-needed rest.

* * *

When his alarm woke him on Saturday morning, he allowed himself to lay in bed a little longer than usual before forcing himself to climb out and prepare for the day. He was supposed to meet up with Patty Blum soon, who lived on the floor below him. 

Stan met Patty through the Jewish Students Organization. Patty was very involved in the organization, while Stan mostly just helped out with a few fundraisers and volunteer projects each semester, on top of celebrating shabbat dinner at Hillel on Friday evenings. Patty was also kind enough to watch Stan’s two zebra finches, Esther and Mabel, whenever his RA did room checks. This way, he did not have to try to sneak them through the security desk at the front of the dorm building to try to walk them over to Richie and Eddie’s. Also, Patty really liked his birds. She’s studying Psychology and has told Stan many times how bird noises are good for relaxation and meditation. She says she enjoys having their chirping in the background while she’s trying to study.

Since they were not able to do any work today in honor of shabbat, Patty and he had plans to go to a local park after synagogue to walk around and relax. They wanted to enjoy the nice, cool weather before October rolled in and it became too cold to spend long outside. Stan also wanted to see if he could spot the white-winged dove he had seen last weekend while they went on their walk in the park.

The walk to the park was filled with idle chatter about their week. She told him about her Neuroscience exam and the new show she had been binging on Netflix, and he told her about an Economics group project that made him want to ship one of his lazier group members to Antarctica and then the moon, just for good measure. Even though Stan tried to avoid the topic of yesterday for as long as he could, Patty saw right through him.

“Are you okay, Stan? You seem kind of…off, today,” she questioned, concerned. They had reached the park and began walking the path that ran along a small stream. The morning sunlight glittered off the gently moving current. There were only a few others in the park during this time: a few joggers and a couple with a large dog. 

Stan paused before answering, unsure how to respond. Of course, he would have to tell Patty eventually. He couldn’t just _not_ tell her. Just the same, did he really want to break the peace right now? A part of him wanted to pretend for just a little while longer that everything was normal. Thursday didn’t actually happen. No, it was just a weird dream. If he told her about it, then they would most likely talk about it, and he didn’t really want to confront the truth right now. Today was his last day before he would be packing his stuff to be moved into a frat house, where he would then begin his new life with his soulmate. He just wanted to enjoy it for just a little longer.

But another part of him knew that would do him no good. He couldn’t ignore the reality of the situation. It would only make it more difficult later on.

He tried his best to push away the thought of lying to Patty. It would be unhealthy to keep trying to pretend everything was alright, when it clearly wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lie to Patty either. They trusted each other. He didn’t want to break that trust, especially over something she would find out eventually, anyway. Stan sighed to himself. No, he would not lie to her.

Patty raised her eyebrows at his sigh. “So, that’s a…no or…?”

Taking a deep breath in, Stan began to fill her in. From the ball almost hitting him, to the ASP, to what happened after. He watched her face shift from surprise to patient understanding.

Once the words began to slowly make their way out of Stan’s mouth, it was like the gate was opened. He let all his feelings about the situation known. Patty knew a little about his reservations when it came to soulmates, so it probably did not come as much of a surprise.

Patty also felt unsure about the concept of soulmates. She wasn’t quite as pessimistic about them as much as Stan was, but she did understand where he was coming from when he explained his trepidations.

It felt so nice to be able to talk to someone who felt almost the same as he did. He loved Richie and Eddie, but at times it felt difficult to convey his reservations. They were so in love and happy, that they could not possibly imagine living without the other. They try their best to be understanding and attempt to see it from his perspective. Despite this, Stan can tell they do not see it the way that he does. And Stan can’t blame them for that. They are literally the poster children of Soulmates, Eternal Love, and Being Happily Together Forever. Stan can’t expect them to see soulmates the way that he does.

And that’s one of the reasons he was so thankful to have Patty to talk to at the moment—because she does understand.

She listened to him patiently until the very end. She didn’t interrupt him once, which he appreciated. He knew that as soon as he stopped, the gate would close again. He was thankful she could tell that and made sure he got out what he needed to get out before she began to speak.

When Stan did finish, his mouth was a little dry. Patty took a moment before responding.

Gaze fixed on the path in front of them, she proposed, “Maybe…this could be a good thing. Like, I know you’ve been stressing about meeting your soulmate for most of your life. And now you found him. From here, what happens, happens, you know?”

“Not exactly, no,” he responded, staring blankly at her. _Maybe they weren’t as on the same page as he had thought previously? _

“I mean that, you don’t really have to stress about the ‘what ifs’ anymore, right? You can get to know him and then decide if you want to be with him. You can move past the stressing over the uncontrollable—when or if you would meet him—to the controllable—what you are going to do now that you have met him.”

A beat passed. Patty turned back to look at him. Now, it was his turn to stare at the path in front of them. _She does make a valid point._

“That’s true…” he conceded. Patty flashed him a soft, gentle smile, and not for the first time, Stan felt lucky to have such an empathetic friend.

“And remember to try getting to know him before you make any assumptions, too,” she continued. “Did you know, that by a year after Pairing, soulmate couples can usually only name, like, an average of, like, four interests their partner has outside of their relationship? Isn’t that wild?! Like, to only know so little about someone you’ve been with for a YEAR..” 

Stan, despite his still uneasy mood, felt himself chuckle as she then began to list off a few more facts about soulmates. Whereas Stan tried to avoid all the soulmate facts he’d seen over the years, Patty actively sought out studies about them. She even planned to do her senior research thesis on something about the statistics of soulmate matches in rural towns, or did she change it to something else?

“So, you know, make sure to talk to him. Find out about his interests, friends, all the juicy stuff,” she instructed him with a wink.

Looking out into the trees surrounding the path in front of them, Stan saw the white-winged dove, again. He stared at the dove, which was calmly cleaning its feathers, for a beat, before Patty and he continued on their walk.

* * *

The next day, feeling slightly better after his talk with Patty, Stan set to work on packing. He sent a quick text to Eddie and Richie to check when they would be over—to which Eddie replied with ‘be over in 30’ and Richie replied with a kissy face emoji—before he began to sort his items into piles to be put away. He was quite a minimalist, so there fortunately was not too much to try to sort into his suitcases and bins. He also knew Eddie would most likely bring a few boxes, as well.

After they arrived, they made quick work of taking apart his room.

Packing went much quicker with the three of them, even if Richie mostly just tried to make Esther and Mabel talk (“Their species doesn’t repeat words, Richard.” To which Richie replied, “Well not with that attitude they don’t, Staniel.”) and made box forts. Eddie and Richie seemed to sense that he didn’t want to talk about tomorrow, and it felt as though they did their best to keep the conversation focused on other things for a while.

This façade was broken, eventually. At a lull in the conversation as they were putting together a few of the flat boxes Eddie brought, Eddie hesitantly questioned, “So…have you talked to him?” He didn’t even look up from the boxes as he asked it.

Stan didn’t need to ask who ‘him’ was.

“Only a little after we finished at ASP,” he responded shortly, without looking up, either. He remained focused on his task of organizing clothes into a few suitcases.

After they had packed most of his things into the bins, boxes and suitcases, Stan ordered them a pizza. They all stuffed their mouths before Eddie and Richie had to leave to get home in time to feed and walk Harry.

Stan knew that despite Bill’s offer, he was not going to text Bill for help. Bill’s number was still somewhere in the ASP folder, but he would die before he looked at it before he absolutely needed to.

It turns out he would not need to look in the folder though. Bill had messaged him a few times during the day: sending him the address for the frat house and asking if he needed any help, what time he was planning to move in tomorrow, and if he wanted to get dinner after they moved him in tomorrow.

His mind drifted to what Patty said about getting to know Bill before making any assumptions—Stan did intend to get to know Bill, don’t get him wrong— it’s just that he wanted to relax a little before tomorrow. He would spend most of tomorrow in Bill’s company most likely, so can he really be blamed for wanting a little peace before then?

Stan began to tense anytime he saw the screen of his phone brighten with a new notification. He responded to Bill’s questions shortly, trying to signal he did not really want to start a conversation at the moment. Although, he did make Bill aware of Mabel and Esther, to which Bill responded that pets were allowed in the house. Bill even added a smiley face emoji. After that, though, Stan did his best to only reply with the absolute necessary amount of words and nothing more.

Tomorrow he would deal with conversations and the questions. But for right now, he just wanted to enjoy his last night in his room. The last night he would have his own room, his own bed, his own life.

* * *

“S-So I, uh, I cleared out a few d-drawers and made some s-space in the c-closet. If you n-need more room just l-let me know and I-I can…” Stan tuned out the rest of what Bill was saying.

Stan took a deep breath. He smelled the same scent that he did the day at the ASP when Bill hugged him unexpectedly: musky evergreen trees, only this time there wasn’t the salty scent of sweat underneath. Instead, the room had a slight vanilla scent to it, even though Stan didn’t see any candles or anything.

Bill’s room was decently sized. There was a dresser and laundry basket to the right, by the closet. Against the same wall was a bare desk that didn’t seem to match the rest of the room. There was an oversized bean bag chair in one corner, with a lamp next to it. To the left of the door was a window with a large desk facing it. The desk was cluttered with a laptop open to a blank word document on top of it and papers spread out in sort-of piles. On the wall to the right of the bedroom door was another door that was slightly ajar, showing Stan it was a small bathroom with a shower. He gave an internal sigh of relief. _No communal showers. _

The queen size bed was facing the door, with side tables on either side. Pillows and throw blankets were piled onto the red, flannel duvet. The whole bed seemed to exude warmth and comfort. Stan had to admit it looked very cozy, especially given the current temperature of the room. It was no wonder Bill had so many extra blankets and pillows, given how chilly the room was. Stan was still wearing his coat, and even he was shivering a little.

He did wonder to himself when the sheets had last been washed, though.

Stan peeked at Bill, who was not looking at him. Instead, he seemed to be trying to avoid Stan’s eyes as he continued to talk about the room and the rest of the house. He was wearing a pair knit joggers, a large sweatshirt with the school logo on it, and cabin socks. _I wonder if it’s always this chilly in here_. 

This room was not what Stan expected at all. No. He expected old takeout containers, piles of dirty laundry, and posters of half-naked people in an array of uncomfortable positions. Instead there were no molding takeout containers in sight, the laundry seemed to all be in the basket, and there were only pictures of, what Stan presumed to be Bill’s friends and family, on the walls (there was a half-dressed picture of one of Bill’s frat brothers, Mike, who Stan had met earlier, but Mike was in a very innocent, comfortable position, laid out on a towel, sleeping by the beach). There were also a few drawings hanging up around the room.

Stan’s bags and boxes stood by the door to Bi—their, he had to remind himself—room, waiting to be unpacked. Richie had been so kind as to pick Stan and his bags up in his truck to drive them to the address Bill had given him. Richie’s non-stop rambling had been soothing this morning—a way to keep Stan’s mind off his nerves. However, at some point Richie would have to leave. And he did leave. Right after he helped to unload Stan’s things with Stan and Bill, Richie had saluted them both and left with a “Nice to meet you, Bobby, be good to our Stanny-boy, now, and don’t forget to call us if you have any problems” as if he was a fussy parent leaving his child with a babysitter. Stan just snorted, but Bill looked, expectedly, confused but still gave a small, unsure smile and waved as Richie pulled away.

Stan turned back to Bill, who was still talking and not looking at Stan. He was even nervously gesturing around a little with his hands. “…s-so—you know—y-yeah, just let me k-know about what f-foods you like a-and I’ll p-put them on the house l-list, if you w-want.”

Bill looked as if he would continue, but he halted his words when he noticed Stan had stopped his perusal of the room and was looking at him, expression unreadable.

“Thank you.” Bill was still staring at him, so Stan continued. “It’s a nice room.”

“Y-Yeah?” Bill asked, eyes brightening at the compliment. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders, “W-Well, do you w-want some h-help unpacking? Or m-maybe you’re h-hungry?”

“Thank you for the offer, but, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just unpack by myself for now,” Stan replied, beginning to turn to walk back over to his bags. However, he stopped himself when he noticed the tension return to Bill’s shoulders and the smile begin to slip from his face. “We are still getting dinner tonight, though, right?” Stan asked, conciliatory, already knowing the answer.

“O-Oh, y-yeah, of course, d-definitely! Is a-around maybe s-six okay?” The smile was back, but he still seemed tense. His voice sounded airy, but there was a touch of nervous energy underneath the airiness.

“6 would be good.” Stan replied shortly. He turned to begin zipping open his suitcases.

“C-Cool, um, well, I-I’ll be in the k-kitchen if you n-need me, t-then. L-let me know if y-you change y-your mind about n-needing help or anything…” Stan heard Bill grab his backpack before shuffling out the bedroom door behind him.

“Alright,” Stan replied, not turning to watch him go. When he heard the door gently close shut, Stan finally rose from opening his bags. He gave a deep sigh and turned to Mabel and Esther; whose cage sat on the little table by the door.

“What do you think?” He questioned them with a raise of one of his brows, moving them from the table to the bare desk. The unexpected noises that came from hallways, especially hallways in frat houses, would startle and stress them, so it was best to keep them as far from the door as possible. “Not as bad as we expected.”

They only continued their chirping. He placed them on the empty desk, which he presumed to be his.

As he gazed around the room, deciding where to begin first, he thought of what Patty had said. _Get to know him before making any assumptions. _So far, Bill had seemed normal. A little nervous and tense, but that is to be expected—Stan felt the same way as well. Bill didn’t seem like one of the ruder or overly confident frat brothers he had met in the past, but it was still too early, really, to tell what Bill was like. From what Stan could tell though, is that Bill seemed open to trying to make it work between them. _Good start. _

Stan began unpacking. Bill did not lie when he said he cleared him space. Stan was a little worried there would not be enough room, but Bill had cleared him plenty of room in the dresser as well as the closet. Stan also found storage bins that went under the bed where he put some of his extra stuff, such as summer clothes, leisure reading books, his bird watching tools and a few extra toiletries. In the end, it all fit quite nicely…

He tried not to dwell too long on the double meaning of that. 

* * *

At 5:55, Stan heard a hesitant knock on the door as he unpacked his books and other supplies in his desk.

He felt slightly weary from around six hours of unpacking and trying to make everything that was just right. That is to say everything that was his; he didn’t touch Bill’s things, knowing it would be inappropriate. This meant that he tried to avoid looking at Bill’s desk, in particular. Every time he accidentally saw it, his heart would begin to race, his fingers would start to flex and curl into fists, and he would even feel a slight urge to make it _just right _try to fight its way to the forefront of his mind. However, he was always able to overcome that thought and move on.

The door slowly began to open.

“S-Stan? I-Is it alright if I c-come in?” Bill asked, body still hidden behind the door.

“Of course,” Stan replied, a small, surprised smile on his face at his soulmate’s considerate, albeit a little funny, behavior, “it’s your room.”

Bill’s auburn head poked around the door before the rest of his body followed. His backpack was slung over one shoulder with a hand clenched firmly around the strap. So firmly, that his fingers looked a little white. He stood tall with his shoulders back, seeming to ooze confidence, but his shuffling feet said otherwise.

“O-Oh, nice!” He looked a little surprised as he gazed around the room. “You f-finished unpacking.”

“Almost,” Stan responded shortly, gesturing to the box still half full next to his desk.

“Y-Yeah but most of i-it is done, r-right?” At Stan’s conceding nod, Bill flashed him a loose, charming smile.

“S-So are you r-ready to go eat?” He asked, moving to place his bag next to his own desk with a thud. He began to twist his back a little, giving it a stretch. Stan turned back to the box he was unpacking.

“That’s a heavy bag,” Stan observed, pulling out a few loose packages of staples, some red pens, and a little stress ball that Eddie had given him.

He heard Bill shuffling some papers at his desk behind him. “Y-yeah, well, E-english majors have to r-read a lot of b-books.”

Stan paused. It was the first real fact he learned about his soulmate besides his name and he was in a frat. _Hm. Interesting. _“True...” 

Stan put the last few pens and notebooks away before turning to look at Bill. His soulmate slightly spinning in his chair as he looked over a paper that was marked in red. He looked over when Stan stood up, pulling on his coat that hung on one of the hooks next to the closet.

“Take your time if you need to finish,” Stan told him.

“N-No, no! I-it’s not important. Just an old p-paper,” Bill quickly shoved the paper into a drawer as if it offended him. “J-just looking a-at something an o-old professor wrote.”

“Oh? Some tip or a little motivation?” Stan inquired, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. _Patty would be proud._

The bitter laugh that erupted from Bill’s mouth surprised him. _So that’s a no…_

“A-Actually it was m-more of a ‘y-you’ll never make i-it in the w-writing world,’ kind of c-comment,” Bill’s voice dropped to become old and croaking as he imitated his professor. He flashed Stan a wicked smile. “I-I was j-just looking at it b-because one of my s-stories was chosen to be p-published in _A-All Horror’s _January issue, and they asked for the most m-memorable comment made by a p-professor for the a-author bio.”

A surprised laugh escaped Stan.

* * *

The walk to a local diner was quite cold. The October air was brisk enough to keep their faces scrunched in their jackets. Bill wore a letterman jacket with what Stan assumed to be his frat’s Greek letters adorned on it, as well as _Denbrough_ printed on the back. Stan was cold just looking at him in that thin material.

The streets were not too crowded. It was Sunday night and many students were either at the library or their rooms finishing last minute homework and studying. The sky was glowing from the sunset: soft blues, yellows, and pinks with cirrus clouds adding white to the mix. The thin, almost non-existent clouds looked like paint brush strokes throughout the sky. Stan gave a little sigh. He loved the sky.

He and Bill walked in a slightly awkward silence. The cold air and wind made moving their faces from under their scarves and jackets unpleasant. Also, neither seemed to be willing to start a conversation really, preferring the silence as opposed to talking because the silence just seemed safer than talking. If they talked, Stan reasoned, they may find out something they do not like about each other. Not something small—evening or morning person, coffee or tea, that kind of thing—but the important things. Stan’s mind flashed down a dark path, and whenever he peeked at his soulmate, Bill seemed to be in a similar, uncomfortable place. However, it did seem that Bill would try to begin the conversation at times. Stan caught him once or twice opening his mouth and hesitating before slowly closing it. So, yes, the walk was spent in a slightly unsure silence.

The thought that for the next few hours he would be alone with his soulmate, loomed over Stan like a dark cloud.

They would have to talk. Bill would learn a few pressing things about him. Stan steeled himself. _If he doesn’t accept me, then this will not work out. I will not be made to feel ashamed of myself_.

As Stan simmered in his thoughts, they finally arrived at the restaurant.

They were seated quickly in the almost empty diner. In a quiet booth towards the back, Stan was alone with his soulmate not for the first time, but it was the first time when they were to really talk and get acquainted. The first time they met, Stan sped walked away after turning down coffee, and since then they have only talked about necessities, except for the brief conversation before they left. They walk to the restaurant was silent, without a word spoken between the two. And now, all of the waiting and anticipation was going to end. Now it was time to put everything on the table. _I am not ashamed of myself. _

It seemed he had a few more minutes before any talking began, though, as Bill almost immediately picked up his menu, perusing it.

Stan hid behind his menu.

He tried to keep the panic from rising by doing a few soft breathing exercises his therapist taught him during one of his first appointments all those years ago. He tried not to make it too noticeable, though, not wanting to seem like he was losing his cool.

When Stan looked back over his menu, Bill’s concerned face was looking at him.

“A-Are you o-okay?” Bill asked, putting his menu down.

“Fine, just got something caught in my throat is all,” Stan lied, quite badly. He looked at his menu. “Did you decide what you want?”

Bill didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press the issue either. “I t-think just pancakes.”

Stan hummed and nodded without looking up. He could feel Bill staring at him, but before the conversation could be picked back up, their waitress arrived in a stroke of luck. After ordering Bill’s pancakes and Coke and Stan’s grilled cheese, side salad, and tea, the menus were whisked away, and they were left with nothing to hide behind.

There was a brief pause. 

“I have OCD,” Stan said, abrupt and straight to the point.

Bill seemed to startle a little.

“And I’m Jewish,” Stan continued, “and I love my friends.”

Bill did that thing again. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion.

“A-Al—”

“Let me finish, please. If any of that is a problem for you, please inform me tonight. There is no point in trying to pretend to make this work if you do not accept these things about me,” Stan informed him, calm and serious. He was trying to appear nonchalant and as if it would not bother him too much, but his anxiety was rising with each word and each second Bill didn’t respond. He schooled his features to remain blank and kept straight eye contact with Bill, who looked shocked and confused. “I am not ashamed of any of these things, and if you are, I suggest we get our food to go and return to ASP first thing tomorrow morning to apply for an Un-Pairing Annulment.”

“N-N-No!” Bill’s surprised eyes were wide, and his hand was reaching across the table as if to grab Stan’s, which were clenched firmly together, the only outward sign of his anxiety. However, they stopped abruptly before they could touch, and Bill let it fall to the table. “W-We don’t n-need a U-U-UPA, I m-mean, I d-don’t have a p-p-problem or a-anything with any of t-those things, r-really!

“Oh.” Finding out all his anxiousness had been in vain was both relieving and a little confusing to Stan. He had spent so much time worrying about what he would do if his soulmate didn’t accept him, that he had not spent as much time thinking about if his soulmate did accept what many people bullied and made fun of him for. Stan, for the first time, was at a loss.

“I-I don’t really k-know too much about O-OCD, but I’ll d-definitely learn more a-about it and l-learn the t-triggers and how to h-help if you n-need me,” Bill stumbled out in a rush, “and I promise I-I can learn a-about Judaism and c-celebrate with you and y-your friend seemed n-nice! F-Funny! He was f-funny! And I b-bet the rest of y-your friends are g-great too!”

Bill took a deep breath, face flushed. His fingers twitched.

Stan didn’t know what to say.

“P-Please, I j-just, I-I know w-we just m-met and don’t really know e-each other yet, but I-I really want u-us to try to m-make it work and be h-happy together. I w-want to get to k-know you, p-please,” Bill pleaded.

“W-Well, alright, good, that’s good. I, uh, would like to make this work, as well,” Stan sputtered out, still a little caught off guard. He began to feel relief flow through him a little, and his muscles relaxed. He felt his shoulders drop and he gave a little exhale. “Where would you like to begin?”

Bill’s smile was one of the brightest Stan had ever seen. His face seemed to glow with relief, and Stan felt a familiar warmth fill his chest. The shock gone, he was able to bask a little in the comfort of his soulmate accepting these things about him that so many had bullied him for.

“W-Well, how about: w-what do you like t-to do?”

The next few hours were spent answering similar questions. Stan learned that Bill was from Derry, Maine, which was around two hours from Stan’s home town of Portland, and that he had a few friends from there that go to the school who he is very close with, including Mike from earlier. Bill has a younger brother, Georgie, a senior in high school in Derry, and from the way Bill talks about Georgie, he can tell how close the two are. When asked about his parents, Bill seemed to tense a little. He gave vague answers about them, and Stan figured it was best to change the subject as to avoid Bill becoming too uncomfortable.

It turns out the drawings that Stan saw in their room were done by Bill. He’s an art minor and drawing helps him to relax. When Stan complemented the pictures, Bill blushed brightly and stutter out his thanks before changing the subject.

But he doesn’t want to be an artist, no, he wants to be a writer. Bill describes some of the stories he has been working on, all horror, speaking so passionately about all of his projects.

Stan felt light. The tension he had been holding on to the past few days, ever since he met his soulmate, had begun to ease out of him. His muscles no longer felt taught and he was able to unclench his hands.

It felt nice being with Bill. Easy. Or at least, easier than Stan had expected it to be. He enjoyed learning more about him and this situation seemed to be taking a turn for the better.

Bill was telling him about how terrible of a driver he is (barely passing his test on the fourth try) and so he prefers to just ride his bike everywhere when the doors to the diner bursting open and a group of boys walking in in a flurry of boisterous laughter. Stan noticed that a few were wearing the same jacket that Bill had on. They began walking to the other side diner, before one had turned to look around and caught sight of Bill’s back and Stan.

“BIG BILL!”

Everyone’s heads turned, even the other diner patrons.

The group rushed over, all shouting greetings at Bill. The group filled into the booths surrounding Bill and Stan. After brief introductions in which Stan only really remembered two names, a pale, skinny boy named Eric and Mike (who he had met earlier so that was technically cheating), the group began chatting and laughing and talking about people, parties, and inside jokes that Stan had no idea about. Bill tried to include Stan in the conversations a little, but it was difficult for Stan to be included on what they were talking about because he didn’t have much idea of what they were talking about. Bill also seemed to be torn between his friends and Stan. That uncomfortable and lonely feeling of ostracism began to creep up. 

“Hey, Big Bill, remember that girl you hooked up with at the last party? Well, did you hear that she came looking for you at the house the other day! Like, is she serious? Guess some people just don’t get the concept of a one-night stand, huh?” said one of the guys, eyes rolling with a large, wicked smile on their face and flipping through the menu. Bill’s face flushed and he peeked at Stan like he was uncomfortable, but he must have pushed that feeling down. Instead, he returned a similar, wicked smile and gave an arrogant shrug with a “what can you do?” look on his face.

“W-What can I s-say?” Bill replied easily before his grin turned into a smug and playful smirk. This sparked a round of ferocious laughter, with Bill joining in.

From there, it turned into another round of dirty jokes, and it seemed like Stan was barely even there. He was just watching everything from the outside, studying Bill and his friends. He tried to tune out some of their stories when Stan became a little too annoyed and uncomfortable by them.

Stan felt like he was looking at another person. The Bill sitting in front of him now was not the same one who he just ate and talked with. No. The sweet, eager Bill he had just spent the past two hours talking with had been switched with a smug, egotistical Bill. A Bill he had never seen before.

The easiness that had just begun between him and his soulmate was over. Replacing it was a feeling of uncertainty and a little betrayal, even thought Stan told himself that logically he had nothing to feel betrayed about. Just because he began to see his soulmate a certain way did not mean that when he found out that’s not how they actually were that they were betraying him. No. It was Stan’s fault for jumping to conclusions so early.

As Stan continued to observe this new Bill, he noticed that every once in a while, Bill would turn to look at Stan, as if to make sure he was still there, before turning back around to chat with one of his friends. Stan thought Bill looked a little guilty each time he looked towards Stan, but Stan couldn’t be sure. He sat there, not really talking unless someone off-handedly asked him a brief question, feeling his anxiety creep back up again. He wasn’t sure what to think of this Bill. Also, which was the real Bill, then, if there were apparently two Bills?

Stan felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. It was Mike, who he had met earlier that day on the house tour and was Bill’s childhood friend.

“Hey Stan, how you doing? Sorry for crashing like this.” Mike seemed like a sweet guy and was the first one to really talk to him out of all of Bill’s other friends who were there, aside from rhetorical questions they shot at Stan every once in a while, that only needed a nod or shrug to answer. He seemed genuinely apologetic for what had happened. “Did you get all moved in alright?”

“Yes, I was able to finish unpacking everything this afternoon,” Stan responded, politely with an appreciative smile on his face. “I didn’t have too much so it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Mike’s lips split into a large grin. “That’s awesome! It sure seemed like a lot when your friend helped you lug it all upstairs. Glad you got it all done so now you can just relax the rest of the night,” Mike patted his shoulder. “Well, I guess you were trying to relax before these guys came and ruined the peace,” he said with a fond shake of his head and that same grin on his face, although now it seemed more curious. It was if he was asking if his night had been ruined because of them.

“Yes, it’s nice to have some time to relax after such an eventful weekend,” Stan was lying, but he didn’t want to be impolite, especially with how kind Mike was being. He didn’t want to sound as if he was complaining.

“Well, that’s good to hear, at least,” Mike didn’t really seem to believe Stan, but also didn’t press him. Instead, the two talked about school and work. Mike was a Biology major (“Hoping to become a vet one day”), but he _loved_ history. He and Stan discussed history for the rest of the time they were there. Even as Bill paid for their meal, and the group made their way out of the diner. Stan enjoyed talking to Mike. He seemed like a very gentle soul and paid attention to Stan, understanding that Stan was in an uncomfortable situation with all of these people around not really paying him any mind when he was _supposed_ to be spending time with his new soulmate.

* * *

After returning from their... eventful first date, Stan made some excuse about homework and made a beeline for his desk. He put in headphones before Bill could really say anything. He was already finished with all the homework that was due that upcoming week. Last week had also been a lighter week at his internship at the Accounting firm so he was able to get all of his homework done before the weekend. At the time, Stan had been excited because it meant that he would have a lighter load that weekend, however now he cursed his boss for being so nice. So Stan just pulled out his Financial Management textbook and began reading ahead. He watched out of the corner of his eye that Bill had stood by the door for a few second looking at Stan before turning to his own desk and pulling out his laptop. Since then, neither of them had spoken. The only sound in the room was the chirping of Mabel and Esther.

Both knew it could not last though.

It was a little while later that one of the issues of living with his soulmate came up: sharing a bed.

Looking at the time, Stan realized it he would need to go to sleep soon if he wanted to well rested for tomorrow. After changing his bird’s water getting ready for bed, Stan walked out of the bathroom to find Bill packing his backpack up with his books and laptop for tomorrow.

Bill was already dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants for bed. Stan couldn’t help but admire how soft and comfortable Bill looked. When the bathroom door opened, Bill turned to look at him and looking at him uncertainly.

“P-Pick whatever side you want, I-I don’t have a p-preference,” he rushed out, before quickly walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Bill’s bed was fairly spacious, but they would still be in it. Together.

Stan tried to control his breathing. _We’re just sleeping. _

Stan decided to take a couple melatonin pills to help him sleep. With his mind and heart racing, he knew sleep would be close to impossible, but he did not want to be tired tomorrow curing class and work. 

Stan checked his morning alarms a few times before he reached over to turn off the lamp on his side table. He then climbed under the many blankets on the right side of the bed. The room was still chilly, so it felt nice being able to cozy up under the heavy weight of the blankets.

Stan thought the room smelled nice, but the bed smelled incredible. The scent was strong and soothing to be wrapped in. After taking a few seconds to allow himself the little pleasure of breathing it in, Stan settled himself in for the night.

He turned on his side to face the window. Today did not go as Stan thought it would. While he felt relief knowing that his soulmate wouldn’t outright reject him, he still couldn’t get over how quickly Bill changed when his friends arrived. Stan also couldn’t shake the feeling of uncomfortableness and loneliness he felt during that time before he began talking to Mike.

Stan’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. Stan’s eyes flew shut, hoping to feign sleep so as not have to talk to Bill before he could gather his thoughts.

He heard Bill shuffling around the room a little (turning off lights and moving a few things around) before he felt the rush of cool air coming under the covers and the bed dip as Bill climbed in. He then felt Bill turning over a few times and fidgeting with a few pillows before he seemed to find the right position to relax in.

Stan felt the melatonin begin to kick in and he tried to slow his breathing to fall asleep. But before he could slip into sleep, he sensed Bill turning towards him.

“S-Stan?” he whispered, hesitant.

Stan felt the weight of sleep begin to evaporate. He let out of soft “yes?” without turning around.

“I-I’m sorry our d-dinner got c-crashed. It was r-really nice s-spending time with you, though.” Stan couldn’t see Bill but he sounded remorseful.

“It’s alright,” was Stan’s only response. It was a slight lie, but Stan didn’t really want to discuss it right now. It was getting late, and he had already spent enough time thinking about it for one day. While he had a good time originally with Bill, he couldn’t just forget about how Bill acted when in the presence of his friends. Stan sighed, realizing that falling asleep would now be harder than before.

Bill stayed turned towards him for a few more moments before turning around to lay on his back, eyes on the ceiling.

“W-Well, ‘n-night…”

“Goodnight, Bill.”

And both tried their best to fall asleep.

* * *

The next few days passed in a flurry of activity as Stan tried to remain busy and active. Between classes, studying and his internship, Stan didn’t return back to the house until later at night most days, after he went to the gym. Even though Stan returned late, though, he still was usually in bed before Bill, who seemed to not sleep until _very_ late at night. Stan had gotten used to falling asleep to the light tapping of keys on Bill’s laptop and the very soft glow of Bill’s desk lamp. It seemed Bill always tried his best to make it easier for Stan to sleep with his late night habits: he switched his bright desk lamp for a softer, orange lamp (or at times he wrote without the light on at all) and he always tried to type as quietly as he could. Stan appreciated the effort.

Stan wasn’t sure what Bill’s schedule was like, only that he was usually gone most morning when Stan woke up. Stan had also seen an apron with the logo of one of the campus coffee shops, _Deja Brew_, on it, so Stan assumed that meant Bill worked there.

He and Bill had still not spoken about the diner. He could tell Bill wanted to a few times, but Stan usually deflected or changed the subject.

Living in the house had been eventful. There always seemed to be something going on, but Stan did his best to just go straight up to his room every time he walked through the door. It wasn’t that he didn’t like any of Bill’s frat brothers (he didn’t know them well enough to not like them, yet), he was usually tired by the time he arrived back at the house. 

On Wednesday, Stan had plans to go to Richie and Eddie’s for dinner. They had done it every Wednesday night since freshman year, and Stan usually looked forward to it. This week, not so much...

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them, he just didn’t want to talk about Bill. And he knew, they would both want to know all about Bill. From the messages he’s received throughout the week leading up to Wednesday, he can tell that both are eager to hear about what his soulmate is like, how they were getting along, etc.

Stan decided to just be honest. He didn’t want to lie to them, and he also knew they would be able to tell how it was going just by the look on his face and how he would act about any question they asked. So, as he walked the stairs up to their apartment, he readied himself for the onslaught.

As soon as he walked through the door, Harry was barking at him and Richie was rushing over to the door. Stan could hear loud pop music coming from the kitchen and the scent of marinara sauce and garlic bread wafting through the hall. Harry stopped barking once she realized who it was at the door and decided to sit and wait patiently for Stan to pet her, her fluffy tag wagging furiously behind her.

“Staniel! You’re alive!” Richie shouted, throwing his long arms around Stan in a bear hug. Stan stumbled a little from the force of it.

“Richie—get off—”

“Just let me have this,” Richie sighed, face mischievous. He swayed both him and Stan back and force as Stan tried to break free. Harry barked, excited, at them.

“I was so worried. No call. No text. It’s been almost a week!” Richie finally let go to wag his finger at Stan. “We have been worried sick about you, young man. Don’t ever disappear like that again!”

Stan just gave him a blank look before bending down to pet the still patiently waiting Harry. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only been a few days. And I’ve been busy.” Stan tried to brush it off, nonchalant.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’ve been _very bus—_ow! Eds!” Richie stopped wagging his eyebrows at Stan as Eddie walked in the room and wacked him with a dish towel. Richie turned to Eddie, pretending to be offended. He was still dressed in his scrubs from work and threw the dish towel over one shoulder.

“Quit being annoying,” Eddie shot back at him, “come help me with chopping. I already put the lasagna in the oven, but the salad isn’t done yet.” Stan thanked Eddie’s ability to keep things feeling normal.

Richie grabbed both sides of Eddie’s face, smushed a loud his on his forehead before telling him, “Of course, my love, anything for you.” Before he left though, he turned back to Stan and told him seriously, “This isn’t over, Staniel.”

Stan wrinkled his nose and stare at the ceiling. When he turned back, he caught Eddie observing him. “So, do you want to talk now or later?” Eddie asked, eyes showing concern.

“Later,” Stan replied, passing him the bottle of wine he brought before he bending to pick up Harry. The weight and warmth of the little dog frequently helped Stan calm down.

Eddie guided them the familiar way into the kitchen, telling Stan about his ‘fucking asshole cunt’ of a coworker who kept eating Eddie’s lunches at work.

They found Richie in the kitchen, dancing as he cut up a cucumber. Seeing the two make their way in, he put his knife down in favor of grabbing Eddie and spinning him around in a knock off version of the waltz. Laughing, Eddie gave into Richie’s antics for a few moments before breaking away to check on the lasagna. Stan placed Harry down on her bed in the kitchen before proceeding to help chop the rest of the vegetables.

Eddie’s a vegan, so dinners at their house were usually vegan or vegetarian at least with a way for Eddie to eat it vegan. For example, they would add the cheese when they plated the lasagna so Eddie could have vegan cheese and Richie and Stan could have dairy cheese (both thought vegan cheese was too gluey for their tastes). This allowed for their meals to be kosher most of the time, as well.

As they finished preparing dinner, the conversation was light. For a second, Stan was able to forget about the past week. Even during the beginning of dinner, when Richie kept trying to eat his lasagna before it was finished cooling, burning his tongue, and then whining to Eddie to kiss it better, no one brought up the elephant in the room.

The elephant was brought up after Richie pulled out a vegan cheesecake he picked up from the restaurant he worked at for dessert.

“So, Stanny, how’s Bobby?” Richie asked, trying to appear nonchalant but failing, hard.

“Bill,” Stan corrected, not looking up from his slice, “and I wouldn’t really know. I haven’t talked to him in a few days.”

“Avoiding him?” Eddie asked, letting Stan know the grilling was about to begin. Stan reached down to pick up Harry, who was at his feet waiting for a piece of food to drop. Placing her in his lap, he began to scratch behind her ears.

“Not completely, no. It’s just been a little awkward between us,” Stan confided to them. He began telling them about Sunday, how everything was going well until Bill’s friends showed up, and now Stan doesn’t really know what to think. He thought he was getting to know Bill, but now it seemed like he knew less than before, if that was even possible.

“You know, he works at that coffee place near the McShea building,” said Richie, trying again to fail at looking nonchalant as he scraped his fork against the plate for the last crumbs of cheesecake. “Maybe you should visit it sometime, that way if it doesn’t go well you can still have an easy option to make a quick excuse to leave. ‘Cause if you’re in your room together, it’s a little harder to walk away.”

“Yeah, Rich, is right, maybe try talking to him when it’s slow at work. Do you know when he works?” Eddie asked.

“I saw him at like 6 once after my last class on Tuesday, but I haven’t been there since. Can’t be spending all my hard-earned money on caffeine, right Eds?”

“You literally drink like four cups a day, asshole, I’m just worried about your health and finances.” Eddie rolled his eyes at him.

“Aw, I’d give up anything for you, my love.”

Stan remembered one of the reasons he was nervous to come tonight, again. He watched Eddie playfully roll his eyes, trying to look annoyed, but still reaching to grab Richie’s hand which was laid on the table. Richie’s face broke out in a soft grin at the touch, and he gave Eddie’s hand a slight squeeze.

Seeing Richie and Eddie being so content and in love made Stan, while obviously so happy for his two best friends, feel that same jealous he felt when they were teenagers and the two just found out they were soulmates. How the three best friends went from being just that, three best friends, to Richie and Eddie and also Stan. He knew that Richie and Eddie never wanted him to feel left out back then, and they always tried to include him when they could. Stan thought he was over feeling jealous about them. While he had felt wistful at times, seeing how they were with each other, he had not felt jealousy about the two in a long time. He knew it wasn’t fair to feel jealous about them, but at this moment, when the stress of the week was wearing him down and the unhappiness he’s felt since Sunday pushed down on him even further, he couldn’t stop the wanting of a relationship similar to theirs. He wanted someone who he would do anything for. Who he enjoyed spending time with and never got sick or bored of each other. Stan wondered what it felt like to have that distinct connection with another person.

* * *

Returning to their room later that night, Stan walked in on Bill asleep in their bed with his laptop opened and angled precariously towards the edge of the bed. Stan placed his things down before going over to place Bill’s laptop on his desk before it became a very expensive accident.

He then began switching out his books form his backpack at his desk. Hearing the blankets moving around behind him, Stan turned to see Bill slowly blinking at him, looking muddled.

“S-Stan? Is e-everything okay?” Bill asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “I haven’t s-seen you much the last f-few days and your back k-kind of late…” He interrupted himself with a yawn.

Stan was a little bewildered. It was late, but dinners at his friend’s apartment always went until late at night. He also hadn’t expected Bill to sound so concerned considering neither of them had really talked the last few days besides small talk. 

“Fine, just having dinner with a few friends,” he responded, reaching into his drawer to pull out his downy flannel pajamas. “What are you doing up still? You seem pretty tired.”

“W-Wanted to make sure you g-got home alright,” Bill replied around another yawn as he tried to blink away the sleep in his eyes. _He looks worn out. _

Stan was surprised at that information. Sleep seemed to come infrequently to Bill, so to hear that he had tried to stay up despite being tired made Stan pause at the thoughtfulness of it.

“Oh…that’s very kind of you, but you don’t need to do that. You should be getting some sleep,” Stan noted the bags under Bill’s eyes. “You’re up late pretty often,” he threw in off-handedly. 

“Y-yeah I just have some t-trouble sleeping s-sometimes. No b-big deal,” Bill tried to brush it off. “W-why? You w-worried about me?” That arrogance returned with a coy face.

Stan stared blankly at him. “Just don’t want you to have to buy a new laptop because yours fell off the bed while you were asleep.”

Bill blinked. He must not have realized how close he was to needing a new computer. “O-oh, thanks, I didn’t m-mean to fall asleep.”

“I can tell,” Stan replied, making his way to the bathroom.

When Stan walked back out, Bill had turned off all the lights except for Stan’s beside lamp. Stan turned off the light, and peeked at Bill, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed. Stan couldn’t really tell if he was asleep or not, though. Sliding in beside Bill, Stan turned to face the window again. It had begun to rain a little on his walk home, but now it had turned into a downpour. Every once and a while, a stroke of lightening brightened the room. Stan’s eyes began to close, running equations through his head for a quiz he had tomorrow morning.

“S-Stan?” _Well that answers whether he was asleep or not. _

“Yes?”

“I-If you’re not b-busy tomorrow, w-want to go s-see a movie?” Bill hesitantly asked, before starting to backtrack. “O-Or we c-could do something e-else if you don’t l-like movies—”

“That sounds nice, but tomorrow’s the beginning of Shabbat and I have plans to go to the Shabbat dinner at Hillel,” Stan interrupted him without opening his eyes. After an awkward pause, he offered, “you’re welcome to join if you would like.”

Bill didn’t speak for a few seconds. “S-sure, I’d love to, b-but, uh…”

Stan clenched his jaw. _Here it comes. He’s going to make up an excuse._ “You don’t have to go if you do not want to,” he informed Bill, in a matter of fact manner.

“N-No! It’s not t-that! I’d l-love to go! Just, uh,” he sounded sheepish, “what’s shabbat?”

* * *

The next day, Stan met Bill in their room after his internship to walk over to Hillel together. Stan had explained about Shabbat the night before, and Bill had listened intently, as if he was trying to remember every little detail. Stan loaned Bill one of his kippahs and helped him to fasten it into his hair.

The walk to Hillel was quick. Conveniently, it was not too far from the frat house.

Stan and Bill talked about their days as they strolled along the sidewalk. Talking to Bill was beginning to feel more comfortable again. He also seemed very eager to learn about shabbat and Judaism as a whole. Stan felt his heart warm a little at the sight of Bill being so attentive. Something Stan has begun to notice about Bill is how passionate Bill can get. Whether it be writing or drawing, Bill was always working so hard. It was brought a pleasant feeling to Stan’s chest to know that Bill was feeling that same passion about parts of Stan’s life.

As they arrived at Hillel, they fell into the horde of other students arriving for the shabbat service and dinner. With a few minutes to spare before the start of the night, Stan and Bill made their way over to Patty and a few of her friends at a table in the middle.

After a few greetings, Stan introduced Bill. Patty’s eyebrows shot up in a knowing way, and she seemed to be trying to not look too excited. It wasn’t working, but Stan appreciated the effort.

Surprisingly, Bill seemed a little shy meeting everyone. The cocky Bill he had come to expect was gone, instead replaced with the easy Bill, which was Stan’s favorite. He was participating in the conversation and listening intently to people’s stories in that certain way he does that makes the person feel like he wouldn’t want to be doing anything else. He would talk whenever he was expected to but seemed to have a nervous energy about him that Stan couldn’t quite place the source of.

Bill seemed like the type to immediately get along with everyone because of his charming nature. And Stan couldn’t deny his attractiveness. No. Bill had this boyish charm that worked in all the best ways. He seemed to be that person that anyone would be drawn to and get along with easily. At one point, a friend of Bill’s even came up to say chat. And that’s exactly who Bill appeared to be. This person that had friends everywhere and could make friends with everyone.

But looking at Bill, now. Stan could almost sense the anxious energy below the charming smile. His eyes frequently flicked to Stan, just like in the diner, as if checking on him. Anytime Stan would catch him looking, he tried to send over an amiable look, hoping to ease some of Bill’s nervousness. Each time this happened, Bill’s face would brighten and flush, almost embarrassed to be caught looking at him. Stan… didn’t really know what to think of this.

When the service began, Bill gave it his complete attention. He didn’t try to flip through his phone and his eyes remained alert and focused, instead of blank and vacant revealing that he was actually zoned out. Instead, he was trying his best to follow along.

After service ended, the shabbat dinner began. At first, Bill still seemed a little nervous and shy, but it wasn’t too long before he began acting like his normal self. He was chatting with a few of Patty’s friends, David and Rachel, and seemed to be having a good time. Stan felt himself relax a little, glad Bill was enjoying himself.

“So, is tomorrow still on?” Patty questioned him, sitting beside him.

Stan looked at her, brow furrowed. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you had new plans instead? Like with Bill?” Patty asked, smirking.

Before Stan could respond, Patty leaned over him, pulling Bill out of his conversation. “Hey, Bill, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Um, n-nothing. Why?”

Resting her arm around Stan’s shoulders, she pulled on a faux upset face, “Well, Stan and I usually go to the park, but my, uh, cat is sick and I can’t go anymore. Why don’t you two go instead?”

Bill looked a little surprised. _He’s going to say no, he’s going to say no, he’s going to say n—_

“S-Sure, that s-sounds fun,” Bill eagerly told her. He was looking at Stan who was staring down at his plate with a frown on his face.

“Perfect! You’ll love it!” She responded, smirking at Stan, who raised an eyebrow at her.

After Bill returned to his conversation with Rachel and David, Stan turned to look at Patty, unimpressed. “You’re cat’s sick?” he whispered to her. “Funny. I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Well maybe you should pay more attention, sometimes,” she responded, the smirk on her face giving away that she was lying.

Stan huffed at her, smirking back. _Smooth_, he mouthed to her, hoping no one else noticed. Although, a few of her friends did shoot her confused looks, all knowing that she did not, in fact, have a cat. Bill seemed oblivious to what was going on, though, luckily for Stan. He was listening to a story David was telling him about how his mezuzah had been stolen in the first apartment building he had lived in off campus. Bill’s face was pulled into shocked outrage, but he also looked quite thoughtful.

* * *

Stan was surprised by how well the night went. Bill seemed to really enjoy himself, and, on top of that, they would be going birdwatching tomorrow. He couldn’t seem to pull the smile off his face on the walk back to the house.

When they returned to the house, there was a party going on. They were able to sneak upstairs quickly though so as not to be dragged in. They just wanted to be alone for a little while.

Later that night, tucked under their blankets with their stomachs pleasantly full, they faced each other and talked well into the night. It felt like dinner at the diner before it went all wrong. It felt easy talking to Bill. Learning about Bill. Even opening up a little with Bill. It felt like how it was meant to be between soulmates.

The floor was shaking every once in a while from the bass of the music downstairs and they could still hear the music faintly, even though their bedroom was on the third floor. With the lights off in their room, flashes of light from outside would illuminate their window every once in a while, casting light and shadows over Bill’s face.

Bill was currently telling Stan how Georgie had given him his beloved snapback before he left for his freshman year of college.

“H-He said it w-would make me look c-cooler, help me m-make friends,” he laughed, and Stan found himself joining in.

“That’s one way to describe it,” Stan told him, still laughing a little. “It kind of looks like your hiding something, to be frank. If I didn’t see your head every night, I would have just assumed you had a bald spot there or something you were trying to cover.” This caused Bill to let out a loud bark of laughter. Too loud for this time of night. He seemed to realize that by the way he covered his mouth.

“Ouch, b-burned by my own s-soulmate. That’s c-cold.”

“How can a burn be cold?”

“A-And don’t make fun of my l-lucky charm. E-everything good that happens has h-happened while I was w-wearing it.”

“That’s because you never take it off. Don’t act like bad things don’t happen when you wear it as well. I saw you almost trip down the stairs the other day.”

Bill pretended to look affronted before his façade broke and he laughed again.

Stan was a little confused about what Bill had said before about making friends, though. “Plus, you obviously didn’t need help making friends. You seem to be a pretty popular guy.” 

Bill flushed, smiling sliding from his face, the cheerfulness disappearing. “I-I just get n-nervous about meeting new people sometimes. I hate the f-feeling that people don’t want to be a-around me. Just always have.”

Stan placed his hand over Bill’s, which was lying between them as if it wanted to reach out to Stan. “Well you seem to be a very likeable person. I can’t imagine someone not wanting to be around you, unless they had something against snapbacks, of course, then that’s a different story entirely,” Stan joked, trying to ease some of Bill’s stress.

Bill looked at him, wide-eyed and jaw dropped, but face bright. He let out a surprised laugh, squeezing Stan’s hand and gently rubbing his thumb over the back of Stan’s hand.

* * *

Waking up the next morning, Stan found himself still facing Bill’s side of the bed. He must have dozed off while talking last night. Stan rubbed the remaining sleep out of his eyes as he sat up. He didn’t see Bill anywhere in the room. _Strange. He seems like he would be one to sleep in on the weekend, what with how much sleep he misses during the week. _

Stan wondered whether Bill forget he had work that morning or plans so he would not be able to make their outing, but then wouldn’t Bill have left him a note or messaged Stan to let him know? A small part of Stan began to whisper rude things to Stan, telling him Bill didn’t actually want to spend time with him and that he only said he wanted to last night because they were in front of other people. Stan pushed these thoughts away, rolling his eyes at himself. _He’s probably just getting breakfast or visiting one of his friends or something. _

Climbing out from underneath the covers to step onto the cold hardwood floor helped Stan to wake up a little more. After getting ready, he fed Mabel and Esther and began to make his way out of the house to head to synagogue.

During service, Stan’s mind kept straying to Bill. He contemplated the past week and the upcoming week. _Maybe I should see if he wants to do coffee or even breakfast before class one day? _

By the time service had ended, Stan had made his decision. He would get up a little earlier one day this week to spend the morning with Bill.

As he walked out, he spotted Patty making a beeline for him.

Trying to sound casual, as if she had not just sought him out of the crowd and rushed over, she let out an easy “So…he seems sweet.”

Looking at her as they made their way down the path back to campus, Stan raised his eyebrows. Patty giggled. “Well, he does! And he’s pretty attractive. Like in this weird, frat boy mixed with lounge wear model, kind of way, if you know what I mean?”

That caused Stan to physically pause before he kept walking. “Honestly, I really don’t,” he responded, amused. “What does ‘lounge wear model’ even mean?”

They turned to cross the street.

“Like he just has this…” _soft,_ Stan’s mind filled in, “look about him. Like he looks like someone who you could just sit by the fireplace with, wearing matching pajamas, drinking cocoa...”

Stan couldn’t really disagree. With Bill’s wardrobe being comfort over style, and his favorite outfits consisting of flannels and joggers or athletic shorts, he definitely looked like someone you just wanted to have curled around you.

“Look at your face! You think so, too!” Patty wasn’t even trying to hide her teasing glee any longer. He huffed, mumbling out a soft “doesn’t matter,” before shooting her a sly grin and asking how her cat was feeling.

As they reached the next street, they would have to part to walk their respective ways back to their rooms. Patty gave him a gentle hug as they said goodbye, and told him, speaking into his ear softly, “It’s seems to be going well. Have fun without me today.”

Stan gave her a gentle squeeze back in appreciation before they parted ways.

Walking home, Stan couldn’t help but be nervous about what he would find. Would his soulmate really stand him up, like that dark, nasty voice in his head was telling him? _He knows you have synagogue in the morning. Maybe he went to the gym or out for breakfast? _

* * *

Arriving back at the house, Stan found Bill pacing their room, talking to someone on FaceTime.

“—m-maybe he changed his mind, Ge—h-hey!” Bill exclaimed when he saw him. Stan could see the tension leave his body, as he let out a breath. “I t-thought you f-forgot or something…”

“Sorry, I was at temple,” Stan said. “I mentioned last night I would be there this morning.” By the look on Bill’s face, Stan could tell that only just remembered. Stan heard a giggle come from Bill’s phone.

“See, told you you had nothing to worry about, Billy.” Georgie said, voice amused.

“S-Shut up, Georgie,” Bill muttered to his brother. “O-Or I’ll hang up.”

Bill looked a little embarrassed, lifting up his snapback to run his hand through his hair. “S-Sorry, I f-forgot,” he admitted. “I-I went out to get b-breakfast, and when I-I got back and you w-weren’t in the room I-I thought you decided to do something else...”

Only then did Stan noticed the paper bag that was on his desk. Walking over, he looked inside to find a vegetarian breakfast sandwich.

“I-I asked the guy if i-it was kosher, and he s-said it was, s-so I hope it’s o-okay,” Bill rushed out, still tense.

Stan took a bite, thankful for Bill’s consideration. He was quite hungry, not having eaten anything this morning, and the sandwich was pretty good.

“Thank you for breakfast, it’s very good” he said to Bill, a genuine smile on his face. Bill’s face was radiant. His shoulders relaxed, and his posture loosened. “Don’t let me interrupt your call, though, I can go eat in the kitchen if you would like privacy...?”

“No!” came from the phone. “Stay! I want to talk to you!”

Bill looked embarrassed and a little worried. “Only if you want to,” he told Stan, holding out his phone in a loose grip.

Stan sat down on the bean bag chair, letting out a slight ‘oof’ as he sunk in, and placed his sandwich on his lap to eat as he talked. Bill sat on the bed next to them, still looking a little nervous.

“Hello, Georgie. It’s nice to meet you. Bill has told me a lot about you.”

Georgie looked similar to Bill, but his eyes were a little wider and face a little rounder, as well as being younger, obviously.

“Stan! Finally! I’ve been asking Billy to let me meet you for, like, a week already! He’s constantly talking about you and…”

Stan lost track of time while talking to Georgie. All he knew, was that he was talking to him for so long that Bill picked up a book a sprawled across there bed. He only interrupted to laugh or make a face at something they said or interrupt Georgie before he could tell a story Bill didn’t want Stan to know.

“Stan, quick, text me your number while you have Bill’s phone and I’ll tell you anything you want to kn—”

“O-Okay, bye Georgie!” Bill quickly, but still gently, grabbed the phone out of Bill’s hands. “W-we should be heading t-to the park, bye!”

Bill sighed in relief as ended the call before turning to look at Stan, who was not even trying to hide his chuckling.

Bill narrowed his eyes, lips twisted in a pout. “O-Oh shut up…”

While walking to the park, later, Stan received a notification for a follower request on Instagram from a ‘GeorgEDenbrough’ and a DM from the same account with a phone number, a message to “talk to me anytime” and a smiley face emoji.

* * *

“What k-kind of bird are you looking for?” Bill whispered, like he was cautious not spook any birds that could be nearby.

“A sharp-shinned hawk, or, hopefully, a double-crested cormorant if they haven’t all already flown south,” Stan responded, peering through his binoculars at movement in a few trees. His face was firm with concentration, eyes unblinking on the trees. He though he saw a flash of yellow, black, and red, which looked a little like a Western Tanager. _It shouldn’t be this far east though…hm._ “And you don’t need to whisper. As long as you don’t shout, birds don’t mind talking.”

They were laid on two blankets in an open spot in the park, surrounded by trees. They chose a spot close to the back, hoping to avoid the Saturday crowds. A cooler was in between them, holding the leftovers of their picnic and a few drinks. Their empty plates were left to the side, forgotten. Between them, was a bouquet of flowers that Bill had gotten for Stan and hid in the other, smaller cooler that had their dessert inside. Looking at the tag on the flowers, Stan couldn’t keep the blush from warming his cheeks. The tag listed the flowers included in the bouquet: Jonquil, Orange Blossom, Myrtle, Pink Camellia, and Daffodil. He wasn’t quite sure what a majority of them represented, but he knew that Myrtle was the Hebrew emblem for love (his parents usually had it in any bouquet they kept in the house). He also remembered reading in a book one time that Daffodil meant something along the lines of “I only have eyes for you” or “you’re the only one” or something like that. Stan couldn’t quite remember. He would probably ask Eddie about it later. Eddie knew a lot about flowers.

Looking down at the daffodils, Stan felt himself thinking, _It’s just because you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t actually like you, he only puts up with you because he has to. _Feeling hurt by the thoughts, Stan reminded himself that it was just an intrusive thought. _He didn’t have to get me flowers. He is trying to make this work. It’s not just because he’s forced to be with me. _He began to calm down again. 

Peeking out of the corner of his eye next to him, he saw that Bill’s sketchbook was laid across his lap, his hand gently tracing lines of something that Stan couldn’t see. Bill’s tongue was slightly pushed out his pursed lips, eyes focused intensely on his work. The soft scrape of charcoal was calming.

It was warm day for November. The sun was peeking through the clouds, and the usual biting wind was replaced with a soft breeze, rustling the trees every once in a while.

Stan placed his binoculars down to pick up his hot chocolate. When he was shopping for snacks for today, he came across kosher hot chocolate. Figuring it the perfect drink if it turned out to be chilly that day and a great way to keep their hands warm, Stan had made bought it and made a fresh batch before they left.

Leaning back on his elbows and resting his eyes for a moment, Stan basked in the peace.

* * *

Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Stan huffed a bit to himself. _It’s only November_, he thought to himself, a little annoyed.

The trek to his first class of the day, Financial Management at 9 A.M., was frigid. His cheeks and ears were both red from the cold air, and his eyes were beginning to water from the biting wind.

While Stan prefers cold weather, he doesn’t like being _outside_ in cold weather. He likes cold weather when he is safely inside with a cup of peppermint tea, under a heated blanket, and reading one of the books he’s been meaning to read. His mind immediately goes to a book about North-Eastern birds that is in a bin under their bed; he bought it a few weeks ago and, sadly, hadn’t had time to open it once. Perhaps if Bill didn’t work tonight, they could spend some time together in their room, him reading and Bill working on his writing.

Pushing the thought of a relaxing day with no work, class or homework out of his mind before he got to down, Stan looked around the fairly empty campus. Given it was only 8:17 A.M. and most didn’t plan to arrive in class until closer to the hour, only a few other brave souls were bracing themselves against the cold. Some were out to grab a hot cup of coffee before a day of classes, while others, similar to himself, also enjoyed being ridiculously early to class.

Stan enjoyed these walks to class. With not many others around, the campus seemed peaceful. He was able to hear the chatter of birds instead of the chatter of other people. He wasn’t being jostled by the masses, everyone trying to make it on time. He didn’t have the anxiety that usually came with being late, something he deeply resented. He would much rather wake up a little earlier than have to experience those stressful walks to class. This way, he arrived relaxed and composed, ready to focus.

Turning the corner around the Art Hall, Stan stopped before he could run into the person bustling around from the other side.

“Stan!” Bill looked at him, his eyebrows rose and then fell. Face pink underneath his snapback and lips twitching, he had his arms around himself and hands shoved tightly into his armpits. He was dressed only in athletic shorts that looked suspiciously like the ones he worse to bed last night and a light fleece Stan remembered briefly to be draped over Bill’s desk chair. Under the collar of his fleece, Stan could see one of his signature flannels peeking out. His lean legs were shaking, trying to create warmth.

“_What are you wearing?_” Stan demanded. His face twisted into an incredulous look, eyes looking Bill up and down from his bare, shaking legs back up to his pink face.

“L-look, I know I wore this to b-bed last ni-“ Bill started to explain.

Stan’s face twisted even more. “No, William, I meant why are you wearing shorts in this weather? And where is your coat?”

Bill’s face grew a shade pinker. Stan honestly wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment or the cold.

“I-I woke up late for c-class this morning and just r-ran outside without c-changing. I got all the w-way to class before I r-remembered it was cancelled today. I-I’m running back to the h-house now to change.” Bill’s stutter was poking its way through, further showing his embarrassment.

Stan looked at Bill. He was shivering hard, ears bright red and looking anywhere but at Stan. The walk back to the house was about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of bitter cold and even more bitter winds.

“Take my coat.”

Bill’s eyes widened in surprise while his brows furrowed in confusion. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“B-But then _you’ll_ be cold.”

“Yes, but my class is in this building right here, while the walk to the house is twenty minutes, at least,” Stan returned, already unbuttoning his coat and pulling off his scarf, hat, and gloves. “You have a class at 10, right?”

Bill nodded, looking bemused. Stan gestured for Bill to follow him into the building across from them.

“Well go back to the house, change into something warmer, bring my things with you back to campus and then stop by my building to return them before your next class starts. It makes the most sense in this situation,” Stan pointed out, walking up the tall steps. He opened the door for Bill, rushing him into the warmth of the lobby and away from the blue fingers that were surely in his future if he stayed outside much longer.

Once safely inside, Stan slipped the coat the rest of the way off his shoulders before passing it, as well as his scarf, hat, and gloves, to Bill. Bill held it for a second before, hesitantly, pulling it over his shoulders. Stan’s coat, which fell right below Stan’s knees, reached a little above Bill’s knees. Bill then pulled on the scarf and gloves before passing Stan’s hat back to him.

Sly grin on his face, Bill joked, “can’t take off my lucky charm.”

Smirking, Stan playfully rolled his eyes before he huffed, “Well I hope it’s lucky enough to keep your ears from freezing off.” 

Bill laughed before tipping that dreaded snapback at Stan and giving him a wink. Bill’s sly grin slipped into a shy smile, cheeks turning pink again.

“Thanks, Stan,” he said, not meeting Stan’s eyes again. “I really appreciate it.”

Stan felt his breath catch and stomach flutter. Bill just looked so cute, face pink and all bundled up in Stan’s things.

“O-of course,” he stammered out. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze.”

There was a brief pause. This was broken when Bill, fidgeting with Stan’s gloves, proposed, “maybe we could get lunch from that diner after our classes are done…if you want to…I understand if you have a lot of studying or-“

“That sounds wonderful,” Stan replied, grinning at Bill’s anxious rambling. “I look forward to it.”

Bill’s face broke into an ear-splitting grin. “Great! That’s great! I’ll see you at 11, then?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

Thursday evening found Stan straightening up their room. It was usually quite organized, but Stan still liked to make sure everything was in its place every so often.

Making his way to put a few of Bill’s books that he finished reading away into a bin under his side of the bed, Stan caught sight of a few half-used candles. Stan paused. _Why are all these candles under here? _Mentally reminding himself to ask Bill later, Stan continued on with the rest of the room.

That night, when they were both under the covers, facing each other in a way that had become their new usual position, Stan questioned him about it.

“W-Well, before you moved in, y-you mentioned you had zebra finches.”

“…yes?” Was Bill getting at what Stan thought he was getting at?

“A-And when I was looking up how to take c-care of them, it s-said that they can’t be in the same room as candles.” Stan was a little stunned. So early on, Bill had already been so considerate. Face splitting into a soft grin, Stan felt himself blush.

“Esther and Mabel appreciate it. They prefer being able to breathe.”

“Well, y-you know, anything for E&M.”

Later, when both were starting to doze off, Stan turned to face the window. After a few moments, he shifted so his back was against Bill’s chest, and he pulled Bill’s arm around his waist, holding Bill’s hand against Stan’s own heart.

He heard Bill’s sharp intake of breath and his heart beat speed up against Stan’s back. It almost matched the same pace of Stan’s. _He’s going to pull away. He’s going to pull away, leave, and never want to see you again. _Stan held his breathe, waiting. But after a few moments, Bill still didn’t move. In fact, he only tightened his hold around Stan’s waist and gave Stan’s hand a slight squeeze. For a second, Stan even thought that he felt a soft press of Bill’s lips against his shoulder.

Eventually, both of their heart beats slowed as they slipped off to sleep, content.

* * *

That Saturday night, the frat was having another house party. So far, since living there, Stan has noticed that they only have about one party a week. Stan was grateful for this because that meant he only had to be out of the house one day instead of two or three like other frat houses he knew on campus. Obviously, he didn’t technically _need_ to be out of the house, but Stan just didn’t want to be there. However, he promised Bill he would come to this one because Bill wanted him to meet some of the frat brothers he hadn’t met yet and have a good time.

That promise currently had Stan sitting on a lumpy couch on the first floor with Mike, Bill, and a few other people, including Bev and her soulmate, Ben. The party was steadily going on around them. Bill had his arm around Stan’s shoulders, and Stan was slightly leaning against Bill’s shoulders, feeling a little tired but at ease.

Stan excused himself to use the bathroom, not actually having to go but just needing some space.

Bill reached out and took Stan’s drink that he had been nursing to hold it for him without even really looking up from his conversation with Ben when Stan stood up.

Stan made his way to the stairs through all the bodies dancing or just standing around and talking. A few people stumbled into him accidentally, and Stan felt his annoyance begin to rise. He made his way up to the second floor to use the bathroom with an actual door attached. Bill had told him that one of the frat brothers tried drop kicked the door of the downstairs bathroom at a party a few months ago, and they just hadn’t fixed it yet. Now, if anyone wanted to use that bathroom, they had to pick up the door, off its hinges, and lean it against the door frame. Unfortunately, this meant that there was always a crack in the door where people could see you. _Gross. _Bill laughed when Stan had told him so. 

Making his way down the hall, Stan tried to remember which door was the one for the bathroom. 

Voices and laughter echoed from a room down the hall on Stan’s left. Figuring he would ask someone where the bathroom was, instead of accidentally walking in on someone’s bedroom, he made his way to the slightly cracked door. As he approached, the smell of weed mixed with the smell of beer that seemed to linger all throughout the first two floors of the house.

“—ucking freak… tight ass…bitch…great mouth…” the abrasive voices grew louder, but what they were saying caused Stan to slow his walking, feeling more cautious and uncomfortable than before. “Stuttering Bill’s soulmate…just want to fuck his…”

Stan couldn’t seem to back away from the snide drawling. Instead, he seemed to walk even closer, in surprised revulsion.

_What…_

“Bill would let us have a turn, I bet,” he made out one snide voice. “If we asked nicely.” The group laughed, sardonic. Stan felt his stomach turn and flop.

“I don’t know, Henry, Bill seems, like, crazy about him.” This voice sounded like Vic, one of Bill’s frat brothers. “We’d probably just need to get him drunk and away from Big Bill for a bit.” He said ‘Big Bill’ in a mocking tone. 

There was a pause, as he heard someone take a big puff.

“Nah, I think Bill would let us. That try-hard is just going to fuck him probably, keep him around, but fuck other people on the side. You know how he is,” ‘Henry’ scoffed. “He’s always hooking up with new people. It won’t be long until we can get our chance.”

Stan was frozen, feet locked to the floor but still feeling unsteady. His blood felt like it was running cold. His breathing quickened, coming out fast, but it also felt like he wasn’t really breathing. His mind was racing, but he was having trouble focusing. He began backing away before he turned completely around and almost ran down the stairs. _He just wanted to fuck you and drop you. He was just pretending to be nice because you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t actually care about you. _Anger and hurt hotly rushed through Stan. _Idiot. _

Pushing his way through people, not caring who he ran into, he tried to subtly cover his face with his hand, blocking the side closet to the rest of the party. _Bill just wanted to hook up and move on._ _You weren’t anything special. You never were. _He avoided going past the room he knew the couch was in. He felt embarrassed, overwhelmed, and confused. He didn’t want anyone to look at him and see his red face and the tears beginning to steadily stream down his face. _You’re a fool. You knew better than to give in to soulmates, but you still let yourself believe this guy you met a few weeks ago._

“Sor—hey, Stan, wait, what’s wrong?” He vaguely heard Mike asking him. Mike’s voice went from surprised to bemused. “What’s going on?” He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he wrenched his shoulder away, eyebrows low and jaw clenched_. He’s probably in on it, too, _immediately popped into his head. _He knew. _

“Stan!”

Stan sprinted the rest of the way out the door, not turning back. His feet pounded as he rushed down the stairs leading to the front door. Goosebumps flushed his arms as the cold air hit him. A few people were mingling outside, but Stan didn’t take notice of anyone. He was too focused on getting out of there. _You’re an idiot. How could you be so stupid?_

“S-Stan!” Stan heard the rapid pounding of Bill’s footsteps as Bill followed him down the steps. “W-Wait! What h-happened?”

Stan didn’t pause or look back at him as he angrily strode down the walkway. “Leave me alone.”

“W-Wha…” There was something behind the confusion in his voice. Stan didn’t care to place it. “But S-S-Stan…”

Stan’s blood was rushing in his ears. He focused on that, instead of what Bill was saying. Hands shaking, he steeled his face. Then he turned, keeping his voice blank.

“What? What could you possibly want?”

Bill stepped back a little, his face hurt and unsure. “W-What do you m-m-mean? I-I want to know w-what’s wrong! W-Why are y-you c-crying?”

Stan scoffed, looking off to the side. “You can drop the act, Bill. No need to pretend anymore.”

“S-Sta—”

“Stop saying my name,” Stan interjected, still not yelling, but his voice was no longer blank. Instead, he sounded indignant. 

“I-I thought y-you were having f-f-fun,” Bill’s voice was breaking.

“Not the right kind apparently…”

_“W-What?”_

Stan felt his anger rising further. _Playing dumb. _His voice was taut as he replied, “I heard Vic talking. I heard him telling his friends your plan.”

“Uh, y-yeah, and…w-what?” _Still playing dumb. _

“Are you really going to continue on like you don’t know what he could possibly have said that would have upset me? Really, Bill?” He bit out, frustrated.

“I-I do—”

“Let me enlighten you then. Vic was telling his buddies how you planned to just fuck me and then move on. He said how you would ‘keep me around,’” Stan trained his voice to sound mockingly casual, in the same way Vic had, “and just hook up behind my back. Because, apparently, that’s just how you are.”

Bill looked stunned, but still confused and hurt. He was silent and staring at Stan without blinking. A few seconds later, he seemed to snap out of it.

“_W-W-What?!” _Bill wrenched out. “S-S-Stan, t-that’s not t-true. P-P-Please! I p-promise!” Bill moved to grab Stan’s hands, but before he could close the distance, Stan backed away. He turned around and began rushing down the street. _He’s lying to me. Why would he be honest about cheating? I can’t trust him. _

“I-I would n-never say t-that a-about you!” He heard Bill shouting behind him. He heard Bill begin to follow him.

“Leave me alone, Bill.”

“I-I know you’re u-upset, but l-let’s just go u-u-upstairs and t-talk about this, p-p-please.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you, and I’m not going back in that house. I’ll stay somewhere else.

“F-F-Fine, but p-please, Stan, e-e-even if you don’t believe me, let me at least walk you to w-wherever you’re going. It’s dark, and late, and it’s not safe to walk alone. P-Please, Stan—”

“No, now leave me alone.”

Stan practically ran down the rest of the street, trying to lose Bill. He didn’t want to turn back, not wanting to see anymore fake confusion or hurt on Bill’s face. _He_ _should be an actor, _Stan thought bitterly.

Once he was sure Bill wasn’t still following him, Stan slowed his pace to a brisk walk. It was cold that night, and he didn’t have a coat. He felt himself shivering but honestly didn’t really notice.

Stan couldn’t control the aching pulse of his heart. It felt like his thoughts were fighting against each other in his head, making his head pound. He was trying to remind himself to breathe, to try to calm down and think, but intrusive thoughts kept pushing their way forward.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. He doesn’t care about you. Breathe in. Breathe out. Why would he? Breathe in. Breathe out. You don’t deserve a soulmate who loves you; you never have. Breathe in. Breathe out. He never cared about you. Ever. _

Stan’s breathing stuttered. A strangled sob escaped between his lips. _It was all a lie…_

* * *

“Eds! Foods here!” Stan heard Richie shout from behind the apartment door. Harry was barking in the background.

He stood in their doorway, slightly leaning against the door jam with his forehead resting against the closed door. He was so tired. Hearing the click of the locks being unlocked, Stan lifted his head from the door.

“Hi, bro, how mu—Stan?” Richie looked up from rummaging in his wallet. “What’s wrong?” His voice went from confused and shock, to confused and serious. 

“Can I come in?” Was the only response he gave Richie. Even to his own ears, he sounded toneless.

Richie jumped into action. He moved to the side to allow Stan to come in and grabbed Harry from getting to close to the open door. Stan stumbled a little to the living room before sitting back on the couch, eyes closed. He heard Richie go into the kitchen, the faucet running, and then there was a cup of water being pushed into his hand.

“What happened?”

Stan didn’t respond. He knew his face was streaked with tears and a few still made their way down his face every few seconds. Instead of asking another question, Richie just sighed before bending to sit next to him. Richie was probably worried, but he didn’t push Stan. This was something he always appreciated about Richie; he never pushed when he could tell someone was really upset.

Richie slid his arm around Stan’s shoulders, and resting Stan’s head on his shoulder. They just sat there. Stan stared in front of him and sipped his water, as Richie just waited. Not saying anything. There was peace for a few minutes.

“Rich, did they remember the cashew broc—” Stan didn’t look up, but it sounded like Eddie stopped at the doorway of the room. “What’s going on?” He asked, voice a little too shrill for Stan’s headache.

He could tell Richie and Eddie were having a silent conversation. He could feel the side of Richie’s face moving as he and Eddie exchanged faces, communicating without needing to talk.

“Me and Bill are over,” his voice wobbled a little, but still remaining monotonous.

Silence.

“Stanny? What the fuck happened?” Richie quietly questioned. “We thought things were going well. You guys looked super happy together.”

Eddie took a different approach. “Did that fucker do something?” He asked, dangerous and tight. He moved to sit in front of where Richie and he sat on the couch. Harry moved to sit on his lap.

A dark laugh escaped Stan. “No. He didn’t do anything. This whole time, nothing was happening. He just pretended it was.”

“Uh…what exactly does that mean?” Richie asked, baffled.

Stan didn’t respond for a few seconds, before slowly beginning to explain what happened. About the party, what he heard in the hallway, what Vic and his friends said, and everything after. His voice started off sounding toneless and flat before becoming wobbly and gravelly by the end.

Eddie and Richie both looked angry and appalled.

“That _fucker_! What the fuck!” Richie spat out. He turned to Eddie, mouth dropped open. “_What the actual fuck_!”

Eddie’s face was pulled tight in concentration, though. “Wait, Stan, did you say Vic? Like Vic Criss?” When Stan nodded, Eddie wrinkled his nose and let out a huff of angry air.

“I know that piece of shit. He was in my Gen Chem lab,” Eddie stood, hands on his hips and shuffling his feet. “He’s a total dick. I’m surprised Bill’s friends with him.” His face twisted in confused wonder.

“Well it sounded like he knew Bill pretty well.”

Eddie was quiet, as Richie gently rubbed Stan’s shoulder with his thumb.

* * *

“…don’t know if that’s a good idea, Eds, he didn’t really sound like he was in a ‘talk with his soulmate who he thinks is planning to cheat on him’ kind of mood, you know? Might now be the best idea right now.”

Stan woke from to the sound of soft conversation. He was spread out on Richie and Eddie’s couch. Through the window, Stan could see that it was still dark out, meaning he was only asleep for an hours or two at most. Harry was in the space between his body and the couch, her little head resting on his hip, peeking in the direction of the kitchen where the voices were quietly arguing.

“Yeah, I get that, but, like, I just don’t fucking trust that asshole Vic. He’s fucking shady, man. I feel like there’s something going on.” Eddie’s voice, even when trying to whisper, was still echoey and a little louder than Richie’s voice.

Stan toned the rest of their conversation out, choosing to continue to look like he was asleep.

_Shit…_

He didn’t want to get up. He knew he should, but the thought of getting up and trying to get on with his life felt like a weight hanging over him.

Eventually, he dozed off again.

* * *

When Stan woke up next, the apartment was silent. A soft, morning glow gently lit the room. Taking a second, Stan did a few breathing exercises before rising off the couch. His arm was stiff and he needed to stretch his back.

Making his way into the kitchen, he began cooking breakfast. He needed to do something. He couldn’t just lay there, anymore, he needed to move on.

Eddie padded his way into the kitchen. Stan heard the jingle of Harry’s collar as she stood from her kitchen bed to greet him and beg for pets.

“Good morning,” Stan muttered out, not looking up from the vegan sausage he was minding at the stove.

Eddie lifted up Harry in his arms, holding her there, before responding. “Hey, man…need help?”

They made idle chatter while cooking the rest of breakfast. Eventually, Richie stumbled his way in, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Eddie from behind and gave him a sweet kiss before moving to brew coffee. Stan’s chest clenched at the affection between the two soulmates. He observed the casual manner in which it happened, showing how it was something familiar and normal for them. Eddie smiled at the feel of Richie behind him and the kiss he felt on his cheek before pretending to be disgusted. “Ew, you’re breathe is fucking gross, asshole,” Eddie teased him, nose scrunched and hand rapidly flapping at the air in front of Richie’s face. Richie gave him a sly grin. Eddie grabbed Richie’s face between his fingers for a quick peck on the lips. “If you want anything else, you need to go brush your fucking teeth, shithead.” Richie pursed his lips at him in a kissy face before responding with “you wound me, Spaghetti.” He scratched Harry behind her ears before turning to the stove where Stan was frying a few eggs. He stole a bit of sausage that were staying warm in the pan before giving Stan’s shoulder a squeeze and stumbled his way back down the hall, most likely to the bathroom.

Stan’s heart still felt aching. _You could have had that. If only you weren’t such a loser. _

He paused. He had _had_ it with these intrusive thoughts. _I did my best, Bill was the one who wasn’t satisfied and was going to cheat. It’s not my fault. _

“So…gonna talk to him?” Eddie asked him, failing at sounding casual.

Stan sighed. “Well, I need to go get Mabel and Esther from the room, so probably.” As much as Stan didn’t want to go back to that house, he needed to get his birds and a few necessities, at least. He also refused to be the victim in this situation. No. He was going to walk in with his head high and do what he needed to be done.

Breakfast was almost like a usual breakfast at Richie and Eddie’s apartment: loud, a lot of activity going on, and Richie and Eddie arguing, which always ended with Richie trying to kiss Eddie. For a moment, Stan was able to remind himself that life would still be okay without Bill.

* * *

Stan stood, staring at the house for a few moments. All his earlier confidence was beginning to dwindle.

Taking a deep breathe, he pushed his feet to move. The house was still a pretty trashed and no one was in sight. It was still early for the day after a party, so Stan wasn’t surprised. Instead, he felt a little relief.

He slowly made his way up to the third floor, trying to keep his footsteps quiet. He arrived at Bill’s door and stopped. Dread began to fill Stan’s stomach like a lead weight. _What if he has someone in there?_

_Just go in, grab Mabel and Esther and some of your other stuff, and leave. He can’t force you to stay. You don’t need to confront him or whoever else might be in there right now. _

Deep breathe, and then he pushed the door open, slowly. Despite his best efforts to be quiet, the door still creaked, loudly echoing on the otherwise quiet floor. Flinching, Stan muttered a few curses. He could hear Mabel and Esther chirping from behind the slightly opened door, but there was no other sound coming from the room.

Pushing the door open the rest of the way, Stan saw directly inside.

No one.

The room looked like it hadn’t been touched since he had last been there, hanging out before the party started with Bill, Bev and Mike.

Stan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He felt his lungs deflate in relief. He pulled out a duffel bag from under his side of the bed and got to work packing a few things away. He would have to wait to collect all of his things until he found a new place to live. Unfortunately, with how difficult it would be to obtain an UPA, he might be on Richie and Eddie’s couch for a while. The dorms wouldn’t let him back in unless he had a UPA.

Once he was a finished shoving his toiletries quickly into his bag, he zipped it and grabbed his book bag, which was lying against his desk.

He began to pivot back to the door to grab Mabel and Esther’s cage.

“H-H-Hey…”

Stan felt himself jump, breath catching in his lungs. His book bag almost slipped from his shoulder. Taking a breath to calm his racing pulse, he trained his face to be blank. He refused to let Bill to see how much it pained him to be in this room, as well as to see Bill.

Facing the door where Bill still stood, seeming to be nervous to walk in, Stan took in his appearance. He was still wearing the clothes he had on last night, his hair was rumpled and sticking up in a few directions, and his face had tear streaks as well. His mouth was pressed tightly into a line and his eyebrows were scrunched together. He was picking at his nail and was mostly looking off to the side, although, every few seconds his eyes would wander to Stan’s before he would quickly look at something else.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your way, soon” Stan informed him, voice low and monotone. Adjusting his bags, he moved to grab the cage. His pace was quick, but each step caused his heart to beat faster. The closer he got to the cage, the closer he, incidentally, would be forced to get to Bill.

“S-S-Stan…p-please…can we just t-talk? I s-swear that what V-Vic said was a l-lie.” Bill spat out Vic’s name like it was foul tasting. Tears threatened to spill from his glistening eyes.

Stan found his breath catching in his throat. It was a few moments before he responded, “Why is it that I find it hard to believe you?” he mused, still looking at Bill straight in the eye. “I’ve heard you talk about people you hooked up with before, like that girl your friend mentioned in the diner, remember? The one who ‘just couldn’t take a hint’? Hm? Remember that? How can I be sure that you don’t think of me the same way?”

“T-That was different! A-And I didn’t m-mean for it to c-come out that way, p-promise, I just, uh, I was just—"

“’Just what?’ Hm?” Stan raised his eyebrows, looking incredulous. “Finish that sentence.”

“I-I just…” and then he was quiet for a few moments, looking down. “I-I just w-wanted to f-fit in with e-everyone. I didn’t m-mean for it to c-come out like it did.”

Before Stan could interject, Bill continued, words rushing out.

“But t-t-trust me, Vic was f-f-fucking _lying_. I would _n-never_ be with anyone else, s-seriously,” sounding desperate, Bill took a step towards Stan, who in succession stepped backwards. Bill stopped.

“You keep saying that, but your standing in front of me wearing the same outfit you wore last night. You didn’t even wait a night before hooking up with someone else!” Stan spat, voice rising steadily, sounding hoarse as he tried to hold back his own tears. “Were you still just trying to fit in then?” He could hear his voice crack, but he didn’t dwell on breaking his façade. He was too hurt.

“_Wh—” _Bill looked down at his clothes, facing turning a little white. “N-N-No! I-I slept on M-Mike’s couch last n-night, d-d-downstairs! I just f-fell asleep t-there after you l-left!” His hands were shaking in front of him, gesturing widely. They slowed as he finished with, “I d-didn’t want to come b-back here w-without you.”

Stan paused. _That doesn’t sound too outlandish… _he mentally mused to himself.

“Why should I believe you?”

Bill moved to drop down into his desk chair, letting out a large breath. He lifted his snapback and ran his fingers through his hair, staring at the floor. “P-Please…can w-we just t-talk?” Bill sounded as tired as Stan felt.

_He’s lying to you. Are you really dumb enough to believe him? _That voice whispered to him in his own head. Instead of listening to it, though, Stan sat on the edge of Bill’s bed, facing him. _Let’s just get this over with. If it doesn’t go well, you will just leave and send someone else to pick up your stuff. You never have to see him again, if you choose not to. _

“Fine. But—” Bill’s face, which brightened when he first spoke, stilled at the second word. “if I still don’t believe you, then I don’t want to see you or hear from you again unless I absolutely have to, understand?”

Bill nodded. Clenching his hands, he hesitated, but then slowly the words began to creep, “I-I really am so s-sorry Stan. I never w-wanted to hurt you. It’s just—I just h-hate the feeling of people not l-liking me. I know that sounds like an e-excuse—” He quickly interrupted himself, seeing the blank expression on Stan’s face. “I’m t-trying to be better about it! I-I’m not as strong as you. You—Y-You’re just so sure of yourself. You don’t care what anyone else thinks. I-I wish so m-much I could be like that, too.” Bill’s face softened, with a gentle smile gracing his lips as he looked at Stan’s hands. “B-But, sometimes, I just p-panic when around people who I want to like me, and I kind of want to s-seem a little m-more confident than I actually feel...” Stan supposed that could make sense. He had seen Richie do something similar before. “A-And I know that’s no excuse! I’m trying to be better about it…promise!”

“And, yeah, I have hooked up with people but never since I met you! I swear! And I would never plan to do hook with someone besides you!” His voice was desperate, pleading with Stan. He brushed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what V-V-Vic said,” Bill’s voice rose in anger, “but I would never want to be with anyone but you.”

Bill’s eyes were so full of emotion, desperate for Stan to believe him. He scooted his desk chair a little forward to be closer to Stan.

“Honestly, Stan,” Bill reached forward hesitantly, grasping the fingers on Stan’s one hand.

Stan didn’t say anything at first, although he did allow Bill to hold his fingers. His mind was racing. While he still felt slight distrust and unease, he did find himself believing Bill. He looked down at their intertwined hands. _How do you know he’s being honest though? He could just be lying again, _that fucking voice whispered to him. Letting the thought pass, he thought to himself, more confidently, _Because I know Bill more than I know Vic. And Bill, while having his faults, does not seem like he would lie about this. _And Stan knew that to be true. From the start, even when Stan was reluctant about their pairing, Bill had always been putting his full effort into spending time with and getting to know Stan. It never felt like he was silently wishing he was somewhere else. It never felt like he was silently thinking about _someone_ else. No. Bill’s attention always seemed to be focus on them when they were together. Stan had seen cheating before, and Bill hadn’t exhibited any signs of doing, or even wanting to do, so.

Stan was silent as he mulled over these thoughts. He could feel Bill watching his face, but he only looked past Bill’s head to Mabel and Esther. Having a focus point, Stan felt himself ease a bit. He also began to consider what he had observed about Bill over the past few weeks. While Bill had always appeared confident and could at times seem slightly arrogant on the outside, whenever they were alone he was different, in more honest way. He seemed to relax, behind the closed doors of their bedroom. Even when they were out, Bill would become slightly different when faced with a group of people, especially new people, but when he spoke to Stan it always felt like Stan was being let in on the real Bill. The one that very few people actually knew. The one who facetimed his brother every two days (at least) and would spend hours researching OCD or Judaism or other things Stan has mentioned because Bill knows how important they are to him. That same Bill was sitting in front of Stan now, looking rumpled and tired from what appeared to be an almost sleepless night and was pouring out his heart to Stan, just for another chance to convince Stan all over again that he really did care. That Vic was lying.

Last night, he had so caught in the shock and hurt he felt at finding out this thing about Bill that had seemed to confirm all the intrusive thoughts that Stan had been having, that he tried not to think about the good times with Bill. The Bill that _he knew_. Not the false bravado that would sometimes appear when Bill seemed to feel like he needed to impress his peers. No. The considerate, bright and passionate person, the real Bill, that Stan had come to know.

He wouldn’t say that he loves Bill out loud. Not yet. It definitely feels like he does, but it also feels like jinxing it to say so this early on (they’ve only known each other a few weeks, damn it). But, secretly, to himself, he does find himself admitting it, whole-heartedly.

“I really like you, too, Bill,” Stan told him, honestly. Bill’s face immediately lit up, as he stared deep into Stan’s eyes. “And I want to give this another chance, as well. I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions. I was feeling hurt and betrayed, and…” Bill’s eyes were soft as Stan tried to find the words. Eventually, Stan just gave up. “I blocked out what I knew about you. What you were really like. I should have realized that you would never betray me like that. I don’t think you would betray anyone like that really. Especially not your soulmate,” Stan gave a slightly bitter laugh. He knew that he disguised his deeper question behind his words, and he could only hope that Bill would answer what he meant.

Bill grabbed his other hand, so now he was holding both of Stan’s hands, not just the fingers of one hand, in his larger ones. “It’s not just because you’re my soulmate, Stan. It never was.” He shook his head a little. “Well… maybe at first, when I didn’t really know you and I just wanted to get to know you. But now, I couldn’t care if you were my soulmate or not, I would still want to be with you.” He softly squeezed Stan’s hands, thumb gently tracing soothing circles on the backs of them. “Only you.”

Stan felt the tears fill his eyes. This. This was what he had been silently hoping all along but was too scared to voice it. Instead, he squeezed Bill’s hands back, “Only you, too.”

Relief spread across Bill’s face and body as the nervous tension quickly left it. He bent his face down to kiss both of Stan’s hands. So softly. And with such genuine care.

As Bill lifted his head back up, before even Stan knew what he was doing, Stan leaned in. He wanted so badly to press his lips against Bill’s, but he didn’t want to do so without Bill’s full consent. He leaned in so close to Bill’s mouth, that they were sharing breath, but paused, giving Bill an out if he did not want to kiss on the lips right then.

Fortunately, Bill seemed to feel the same as Stan. He pressed his mouth against Stan’s, so sweetly and so passionately. All he could focus on was Bill: the feeling of Bill, the scent of Bill, the sounds Bill was making into the kiss… Everything at that moment was about being with Bill. Stan even ignored Bill’s morning breathe. His heart pulsed dramatically. Just as the kiss began to deepen, Bill broke away. His breathing was heavy and face flushed, but his mouth upturned into a blissful smile.

Stan felt himself warm and it felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. They took a moment to catch their breaths before Bill reached over again, sliding their lips against each other’s once more, firm and resolute.

* * *

“William.”

Bill turned to look at Stan, squinting as he tried to focus on Stan in their dark bedroom after looking up from his laptop. He was working on a new short story to submit, and he had an idea in the middle of the night.

“W-What?”

Stan stared at him, expressionless even after he just woke up. The light tapping of the laptop keys and the light from Bill’s laptop, though turned to one of the lowest brightness levels, had roused him. As well, admittedly, the loss of warmth wrapped around him.

Stan has woken up like this at least once every week in the last few months since he first moved in with Bill. Now, after a few months of living together, Stan knew what the soft tapping of the keys meant even before he opened his eyes.

He thought about it for a second. _The best way to convince him to go to sleep…_ he mused to himself, staring as Bill returned to his vigorous typing, as if nothing was wrong.

Stan slid closer to him, wrapping his long arms around Bill’s waist, pushing his face into Bill’s bare chest. Stan heard his typing stutter. Stan felt Bill’s fingers running through his curls, soothing Stan. Stan gave a sigh when the fingers returned to the keyboard.

Stan both heard and felt Bill’s soft chuckle. “I just need to f-finish this scene…”

Stan knew that was bullshit. When Bill was like this, everything else (such as eating, sleeping, etc.) was pushed to the wayside. After a few months of knowing Bill, however, Stan had perfected how to care for him when he was in this mood.

Rubbing his hand in gentle circles and snuggling deeper into Bill’s bare chest, Stan then wrapped his bare leg over Bill’s. Bill called this Stan’s ‘sneak attack.’ Basically, he would just slowly move his limbs and body over ever so slightly it was barely noticeable, until he was almost fully surrounding Bill. Then Bill, the best soulmate in the world (Stan’s not biased), would eventually sigh in tired content, before moving his laptop, which at that point would be slightly propped on Stan as well, and giving in to sleep.

Stan was very proud of this.

“I k-know what you’re d-doing Stan.”

“Hm? And what exactly would that be William?” Stan’s foot lightly traced Bill’s calf, the skin on skin contact warming each other.

Stan’s eyes were closed, but he could practically _feel_ Bill rolling his eyes in amusement. Stan grinned to himself, smug. He was going to win.

“You’re a terrible a-actor, babe.”

_Rude and untrue. _Instead of replying, Stan simply moved over a little more onto Bill, hips nudging the laptop.

Bill’s chest rumbled again, not trying to hide his amusement anymore.

“F-Fine, fine…” he tried to sound exasperated, “you’re protest has been heard.”

“Don’t know what you mean…” Stan replied, trying his best to sound innocent. _I am a good actor. _

He felt the warm skin beneath him shift, maneuvering the laptop onto the side table, just as predicted. Turning back over, Stan felt Bill’s arms slide around him and pulling him close. Their room was as cold as the day he moved in, but at least now he had the feeling of Bill’s bare, warm skin to press against when he was cold, as well as when he was not.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!Please let me know what you think down below! :)  
If you enjoyed this, I'm writing a part 2 to this focusing on Bill from his POV and the events of the story plus new scenes and everything with more Benverly, Mike, and Georgie! Should be up by the end of the month! 
> 
> Also, this was my first fic so I'm sorry if there were mistakes or anything!


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